


Where Your Treasure Is

by ReiMori



Series: Pursuit of Happiness [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Explicit Language, House Party, M/M, One-Sided Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReiMori/pseuds/ReiMori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School is a period of self-discovery, first loves, heartbreak, and teenage shenanigans. </p><p>Jean longs to experience that when he enters Trost Academy as a first-year. Little does he know that walking into the wrong classroom would lead him to meeting an angry asshole and his hot sister, a nerdy blond kid who's helping him pass French class, and "Freckles", the one person who will change everything Jean Kirschtein stands for.</p><p>And a party or two later, he might even meet what he considers to be the greatest people in the world. </p><p>"You can't fully experience high school without going to one of Reiner's parties." She said.</p><p>Jean's still not sure if he regrets it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Firsts

 

    Jean walked down the halls with his head held high and a giant smirk on his face. No one would have thought this seemingly self-confident teen was actually a nervous wreck of a first-year.

  
    _Where the fuck is this room even supposed to be!?,_  he thought to himself.

  
   Jean casually stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out his schedule. He quickly glanced at it as if it were a sin to even look.

  
 _Room 287? Where the hell-_

  
   "Shit!" He stumbled back and look up at whatever brute had nearly knocked him over. Jean began to formulate a rude response but the teen in front of him beat him to it.

  
   "Watch where you're going, asshat."

  
   Jean's jaw dropped and eyebrows furrowed. Who did this shithead think he was?

  
   "It's not my fault you can't get your head out of your ass for five seconds to see who's in front of you."

  
   Before it even registered in Jean's brain, the shorter teen's fist came up to very lovingly meet Jean in the face. But he never felt the impact. He opened his eyes, not realizing he had shut them, and saw a beautiful black haired Asian girl holding back the shorter teen's fist.

  
   "Eren, it's the first day of school. Don't start fighting already."

  
     "Stay out of it, Mikasa." Eren growled and snatched his wrist from the girl's hand. He shoved his hands into his sweatshirt and turned away from Jean.

  
   Eren kicked at the lockers beside him. Mikasa stared after Eren as he walked away. Jean felt his palms begin to sweat so he leaned against the lockers.

  
   "What a douche."

  
    _Fuckfuckfuckfuck SHITTY MOVE, KIRSCHTEIN ABORTABORT_

  
   Mikasa glared at him before walking away.

  
   Jean called after her, "Sorry! I didn't- I just...I like your hair!"

  
   The black-haired teen didn't turn back and kept walking.

  
   Jean slumped against the lockers and banged his head against them.

  
    _Damn it. Smooth move, Jean. She just met you and she already hates you._ The late bell rang and Jean quickly stood up, _Shitshit, I'm going to be late for English_.

  
   Jean didn't even bother looking at his schedule again so he didn't realize his classroom was 278, not 287. So he rushed into room 287 hoping he wasn't the last one in.

  
   He glanced around the room and noticed the only empty seat in the room. Jean practically ran to it and breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down.

  
   Jean settled in and shrugged off his jacket.

  
   "Okay Class, welcome back."

  
   Jean froze.

  
   "Since it's your second year of high school, please expect to do more work than your freshman year."

  
   Jean looked around nervously. The teacher had to be wrong. Everyone else had to be just as confused as he was. This was a freshman English class...right?

  
   "Psst."

  
   Jean turned to his left.

  
   "You're in the wrong class aren't you?"

  
   Jean's heart stopped, "What are you talking about?"

  
   The stranger smiled softly, "Sorry...it's kind of obvious. You look worried."

  
   Jean looked down almost shamefully.

  
   "I'm not in English 1, am I?"

  
   The freckled teen shook his head, "Afraid not. This is English Comp. What room are you supposed to be in?"

  
   "My schedule _said_  room 287 so..."

  
   "Let me see."

  
   Jean took out his crumpled up schedule from his jean pocket and handed it to the older teen.

  
   After a few moments, the teen looked back up at Jean with a sad smile.

  
   "It says here room 278, not 287."

  
    "Fuck, seriously!? Ughh," Jean smacked his face into his palm. "Goddamn it. It's all because that stupid asshole bumped into me in the hallway."

  
   "If you need me to show you where it is-"

  
   "No thanks" Jean said, practically snatching his schedule out of the teen's hands. He paused for a moment before asking, "...How do I leave?"

  
   The teacher passionately spoke about what the second years should expect to achieve this year and Jean didn't exactly want to interrupt him.

  
   "Don't worry, teachers understand students end up in the wrong class all the time. Just...get up and leave I guess."

  
   Jean was wary of the advice but figured he had no other choice. So he quickly grabbed his jacket and his backpack.

  
   He shuffled out of his seat and turned to the other teen, "Hey...thanks, um-"

  
   "Marco," the freckled boy smiled. "No problem. I hope you get to class this time," he chuckled.

  
   "R-Right," Jean said before practically sprinting out the door.

  
   The two-toned teen speed walked toward the direction he had originally come from.

  
    _281...279..._ he looked across the hall, _278, hell yeah._

  
   He paused a bit and slouched forward, as if to seem more apathetic than he actually was, before walking in.

  
   The second Jean opened the class door all eyes were on him.

  
   "And you must be...?" The teacher inquired.

  
   "J-Jean," he hoped his voice didn't go up a few octaves, "Kirschtein."

  
   The teacher looked down to check for his name on the attendance sheet.

  
   "Ah, here you are! Okay, please take the 4th seat in the 3rd row, right next to Mr. Jaeger."

  
   Jean glanced at the seat the teacher pointed to and his face contorted into a scowl.

  
    _Aw fuck no!_

  
   Jean trudged to his seat and made no attempts to hide the scowl on his face.

  
   Eren noticed the look directed at him and returned a glare of his own.

  
   "It's not like I wanted to sit next to you either, asshole."

  
   "At least the feeling's mutual. _Jaeger_."

  
   Eren stared at Jean with a disgusted look on his face, "What. The. Actual. Fuck."

  
   Jean opened his mouth to reply but their English teacher promptly tapped on the board.

  
   "Class, I expect you all to be here on time and be prepared to work every single day."

  
   Despite their previous disagreements, both Eren and Jean both groaned simultaneously, which earned a quick glare from their instructor.

  
   Even though it was first period, Jean could already feel this was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

   The day passed on without much excitement. It was the typical "bring your books in", "don't be late to class", "these will be the best years of your life", blah blah blah.

  
   The classes all blended together, but Jean noticed many familiar faces from his English class in some of his other classes. Luckily, that angry kid Eren didn’t seem to be in many of his classes, which was a blessing in itself.

   

    Jean was feeling pretty good about his relatively easy classes. That was until he stepped foot into his French 1 class.

 

    It was only the first day of school and his French teacher, some short man with a cravat and a bad attitude, assigned homework.

 

    _This asshole hasn’t even taught anything!_

 

    Jean furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to decipher the concoction of vowels and consonants.

 

    “Kid, do you need glasses or some shit?”

 

    Jean’s eyes shifted from the board to his tiny French teacher.

 

    "No?"

  
    "Then why the hell are you squinting?"

  
    Jean was at a loss for words. Did this man not understand the fact that he hasn't taught his student anything?

  
    "I just...you haven't exactly taught us anything yet, sir."

  
    Rather than get angry like Jean expected him to, the teacher simply stared at the teen before turning on his heel and walking towards his desk. He leaned over the side and reached down to an area not viewable from his students' desks.

  
    The second his teacher pulled out a stack of books, Jean internally groaned.

  
    "I expect you all to study ahead of time what you'll be learning in class," the tiny tyrant said as he began plopping down giant textbooks on each student's desk. "And don't call me 'sir' again," he continued as he stood in front of Jean. "It makes me sound like an old ass man."

  
    Giggles from the back of the class could be heard from students who weren't used to teachers cursing.

  
    "And if another one of you little shits laughs again at stupid words like the immature children you are-"

  
    The series of giggles and whispers died down before the French teacher even finished his sentence.

  
    The next half hour or so made Jean want to shove his foot down his own throat. It was mostly just his teacher handing out textbooks, laying down the "law" of the classroom, and threatened to castrate any student who drew a penis on his desk.

  
    Needless to say, when the bell rang, Jean was the first one out of his seat.

  
    Jean rushed to the door so fast he bumped into a shorter boy.

  
    "Ah, uh, sorry!"

  
    Jean glanced down confused as to why the other boy would apologize when it was Jean's fault in the first place.

  
    "Nah, my fault. Just in a hurry to get the fuck out of here."

  
    The blond boy smiled softly, "I take it you're not so fond of Mr. Levi, then."

  
    "Who?"

  
    "Our French teacher, Mr. Levi. His name is written on our schedules."

  
    Considering Jean barely glanced at his schedule, he wasn't entirely surprised he didn't know any of his teachers' names.

  
    "Yeah...what a total asshole. I mean, I can't believe he expects us to _learn_  on our own. What the hell!"

  
    The blond teen shrugged, "He's old school, I suppose. If anything, it'll help our studying skills."

  
    _Wow, what a total nerd,_  Jean thought.

  
    "So what do you have next?" The tiny teen asked.

  
    "Uh, geometry I think. You?"  
 

    "AP government."

 

    "AP? How'd you manage that? Aren't you a first-year?"

 

    "Yeah. My middle school just offered some advanced courses so I got out of taking the typical freshman World class."

 

    "Sounds tough, man."

 

    The smaller blond shrugged once again, "We'll see. Luckily I have lunch after that, so if it _is_  difficult, at least I have a period off after that."

 

    Jean titled his head, _Seventh period lunch? That sounds familiar._

    He took out his schedule and glanced at his seventh period class.

 

    "Hey, I have the same lunch period!"

 

    "I think a third of the student body has the same lunch period considering lunch is only served fifth to seventh."

 

    Jean shoved his schedule back into his pocket, "Yeah well, at least now I'll have someone to sit with."

 

    The blond teen blushed slightly but said nothing.

 

    Jean hadn't even realized then that he had been following the blond boy into an unknown direction.

 

    "Shit, I didn't even realize where we were going. I gotta get to class."

 

    "It's right around the corner. Geometry, right?"

 

    "It's seriously like right here?"

 

    "Yep, my class is just down the staircase. So...."

 

    " 'Kay, see you at lunch!"

 

    Jean dashed around the corner and looked up at the numbers to find his classroom.

 

    The day was turning out not to be so bad, it seemed. At least he made friends. Well, acquaintances, actually.

* * *

 

    Lunch was an interesting affair. Jean lost himself in a swarm of upperclassmen that made its way into the cafeteria. From that moment on, Jean vowed to wait a few minutes before going anywhere near the lunchroom. It was a madhouse.

 

    When Jean finally made his way over to an empty table, he suddenly realized how isolated he felt. He literally had no friends besides the few classmates he conversed with throughout the day. He didn't even get a chance to ask that blond kid's name.

 

    "Hey, is anyone sitting here?"

 

    Jean looked up to see whom the voice belonged to.

 

    "Uh, n-no," Jean scooted over to give the freckled teen room.

 

    Marco sat down and smiled, "It's funny finding you here. Were you able to find your classes just fine?"

 

    "Huh? Oh, yeah. Most of my classes are on the second floor so they were easy enough to find."

 

    “That’s good to hear. So are you waiting for your friends?” Marco asked.

 

    Jean shook his head, “Not exactly.”

 

    Like hell he was going to admit to not having friends.

 

    “Well then, I hope you don’t mind me staying here for the rest of the period.”

 

    Jean looked at Marco incredulously.

 

    “Why would you wanna do that? I barely even know you, to be completely honest.”

 

    Marco shrugged and at that moment a loud voice called out the freckled teen’s name.

 

    “Marco!!”

 

    The teen in question turned around to see a ponytail haired girl come over to his table.

 

    “I haven’t seen you all summer,” the girl wrapped her arms around Marco’s neck and hugged him.

 

    Marco laughed, “I told you’d I’d be visiting my grandparents in Italy the whole summer, Sasha.”

 

    “I know but I was so _bored_! Ymir kept trying to—”

 

    Jean was fiddling with a loose string on his shirt when he felt Marco put a hand on his shoulder.

 

    “Sasha, this is Jean, he’s a first-year,” Marco said, interrupting Sasha’s story.

 

    Sasha looked up at Jean, “Hey! You’re that kid that kid that skipped out of our Comp class!”

 

    G _reat, only the first day and you’ve already got a sucky reputation. Good going, Kirschtein._

“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” Jean simply replied as he felt his ears slowly grow warm.

 

    “Cool! I’m Sasha, by the way!” The girl said, lifting an arm from Marco’s neck and waving.

 

    Sasha then took the seat next to Marco and started opening up her backpack.

 

    “What’s it today, Sash?” Marco asked with a bemused smile on his face.

 

    The girl practically moaned, “Chicken parm with baked ziti.”

 

    Jean’s eyes widened, “You brought _dinner_ to school?”

 

    “Dinner? Dude, this is _lunch_. A _small_ lunch at that. God, what I wouldn’t give to have a filet mignon right now.”

 

    Jean suddenly felt extremely hungry.

 

    “Not going to eat, Jean?” Marco asked.

 

    “I didn’t exactly bring lunch so…”

 

    “If you get on line now, you might still be able to get some school food.”

 

    Jean cringed, “Dude, I may be a first-year but even _I_ know that high school lunch sucks ass.”

 

    Marco shrugged before taking out his own peanut butter and jelly sandwich, “Suit yourself.”

 

    Jean sat there watching the two upperclassmen eat their lunch when Sasha burped loudly, thus signaling the end of her meal.

 

    “So as I was saying—”

 

    “Hm?” Marco hummed as he chewed.

 

    “Ymir said Reiner’s throwing his usual First Day of School party or whatever. Are you going?”

 

    Jean’s ears perked up. His mind began to race with images of typical high school party scenes he remembers seeing in some teenage movies. What he wouldn’t give to go to one of those parties.

 

    Marco swallowed the piece he had been chewing, “Not sure. After last year’s fiasco, I’m not entirely sure I want to try again.”

 

    “Fiasco? Marco, that party was _legendary_. So what if we had to jump from fences because of the cops. That party was so lit, oh my god.” Jean could swear Sasha’s eyes rolled to the back of her head.

 

    “Sasha, we almost went to _jail_.”

 

    “It was Ymir’s fault! She said she baked brownies, so of _course_ I was gonna try them out!”

 

    Marco shook his head, “I don’t know…”

 

    Jean stared at the freckled teen.

 

    _Fuck man, that sounds so fucking awesome. Holy shit. Say yes. Say yes, say yes, say yes._

    Marco turned to Jean, “Would you be interested in going to a party?”

 

    “W-What? Me? But I don’t know…I’m just a first-year,” Jean wanted to choke himself for stuttering.

 

    Sasha slapped a hand onto his back, “We went last year when we were first-years and we had the time of our lives! You can’t fully experience high school without going to one of Reiner’s parties. You should definitely come.”

 

   Jean glanced at Marco, “Yeah, I mean, if Marco goes, I guess I’m fit.”

 

    “Awesome!” Sasha stuck up her thumbs. “All right, gotta go get some more food. Bee-are-bee, guys.”

 

    Jean felt slightly exhausted just from listening to Sasha talk. Maybe it was just the hunger talking.

 

    “And on that note, I’m gonna go take a piss,” Jean said as he stood up from his chair.

 

    “Okay, I’ll be here,” Marco smiled a bit before taking another bite out of his sandwich.   

 

     Jean walked across the cafeteria and around a corner to get to the boy's bathroom.

  
    He chose a urinal to use and did his business.

  
    "Ayo, John, right?"

  
    Jean turned his head to see a bald teen in the urinal next to his.

  
    "It's Jean," he tried keeping the annoyance to a minimum. "You're in like all my classes or whatever, right?"

  
    "Yeah, bro. I sit behind you in geometry."

  
    Jean finished and zipped up his jeans.

  
   "I'm not even going to pretend I know your name, sorry not sorry."

  
    "Connie," the boy said, following Jean to the sinks.

  
    "Right. Connie, okay."

  
    _Say something else, Jean! Don't be such a socially pathetic dipshit_

  
    "So I, uh, I heard there's gonna be a party today."

  
    Connie's eyes widened, "Legit!?"

  
    "Yeah, man. It's some dude's like annual first day party or something."

  
    Jean dried his hands and leaned against one of the bathroom walls.

  
    "Fuck, that sounds so cool. Are you going?"

  
    "Hell yeah, I am! First high school party and all. Wouldn't miss that for the world."

  
    Connie looked at Jean expectedly.

  
    "Uh...do you wanna go?"

  
    The shorter teen nodded vehemently.

  
   Jean laughed, "All right then. I don't know exactly where it is, I'm going with some upperclassmen I met, though so..."

  
    Connie took out his cellphone, "That's fine, just text me the address when you find out. What's your number?"

  
    Jean was taken aback. Did people usually make friends this way? He wondered if this was why he didn't make many friends in middle school. He had been doing it wrong the whole time.

  
    The two exchanged numbers and parted ways once they exited the bathroom.

  
    _Tonight's going to be so fucking awesome_

* * *

 

    Jean smoothed down his hair. Double checked himself in the mirror and smelled the Axe he practically drowned himself in. To say he was nervous was an understatement.

  
    Marco and Sasha had picked him up in Marco's mom's car. Marco had assigned himself as the designated driver, which made Jean snort a bit.

  
    _Freckles WOULD be the goody two shoes._

  
    After finding out Reiner's address, Jean shot Connie a quick text before shoving his phone back into his pocket. His hands were getting sweaty, but he just wiped them onto his pants.

  
 _C'mon, Kirschtein. Don't be a pussy. You're gonna have the fucking time of your life so man up!_

  
    Once they got to the party, well, it certainly surpassed any expectations Jean had. The music was even louder than he imagined. And the amount of bodies crammed into one area was nauseating.

  
    Jean unconsciously stuck close to Marco while Sasha wandered into an unknown direction.

  
    "It's even more packed than last year!" Marco shouted over the music.

  
    "I can barely even breathe, Jesus Christ!" Jean was getting slightly annoyed.

  
    "Down a shot or two and you won't be feeling crowded for much longer," a voice came from behind Jean.

  
    A tall, brawny teen danced over to Marco and Jean. He shoved a red solo cup into Jean's hands before doing the same to Marco.

  
    "How you liking the party, boys?"

  
    "It's going to get crazier than last year, I can feel it." Marco pouted slightly before setting his cup down on the windowsill.

  
    "Damn right it will be," the tall blond grinned. "So who's your friend, Marco? I haven't seen him around."

  
    "Ah, yeah, Reiner this is Jean, he's a first year," he turned to Jean, "Jean, Reiner, the owner of this insane party house."

  
    Reiner clapped a hand onto Jean's shoulder, "Ey, a freshie? Pretty good. Hope you're ready to have some fucking fun. It's my last year, and I want it to memorable as fuck. So please, feel free to let loose and get piss ass drunk. Lord knows I'll probably be there with ya."

  
    Jean sipped at his drink as Reiner laughed and excused himself when "his song" came on.

  
    "Well that was...kinda cool," Jean admitted.

  
    Marco shook his head, "Reiner's going to get himself into big trouble one day. That guy knows no bounds."

  
    Jean and Marco made their way further into the house and by the time they reached the kitchen, Jean was already three-quarters done with his drink. Not that he was feeling it, for that matter.

  
    Reiner was right, the house didn't seem as crowded anymore.

  
    Jean briefly wondered what kind of drink Reiner had given him. But he barely cared as he reached over onto the counter and grabbed a beer.

  
    His hand bumped with someone else's and he turned to look at who it was.

  
    "You gotta be fucking kidding me."

  
    Jean rolled his eyes in annoyance, "Why the fuck are _you_ here, Aaron?"

  
    "For the last fucking time, _John_ , my name is Eren. And I should be asking you that!"

  
    Jean snatched up the beer before Eren could, "Well obviously I have connections. Who's dick you suck to get here?"

  
    "Your mother's, jackass. Clearly you're not the only one with 'connections', you arrogant fuck."

  
    Jean chugged his beer, "Whatever, asshole. I'm gonna have an amazing night, so screw off."

  
    Jean turned his back and glanced over to his side to see where Marco may have wandered off to.

  
    "Eren, stop! Let it go."

  
    The two-toned teen recognized that voice.

  
    "Heyyy, it's you! The kid from my French class."

  
    Jean realized the alcohol was probably starting to get to him.

  
    The small blond boy smiled slightly, "Hey, Jean."

  
    "Ew, Armin, don't fucking _greet_  him, traitor." Eren grunted.

 

    _Armin? That...kinda fits. Heh, nerd._

    "Stop being a prick, Jaeger," Jean said as he passed a beer to Armin.

  
    "Uh, no thank you. I'm good," the blond held up his hands.

  
    Jean shrugged and dumped the beer into his solo cup.

  
    "So why are you talking to _this_ dickweed anyway?" Jean asked.

  
    Eren glared but Armin kept his arm around Eren's, clearly keeping him from breaking Jean's face.

  
    "If I say he's my boyfriend will you leave us the fuck alone?"

  
    Jean's eyebrows shot up, "Whoa, what?"

  
    Armin slapped Eren's arm, "He's kidding. We're just childhood friends. We're not...no, never." Armin laughed nervously.

  
    Eren smoothed his hair back, "Either way, you're not allowed to hit on him. In fact, don't even look at him."

  
    "Dude, I'm not gay. If anything, I'd hit on Mika- fuck I mean, no. Fuck off." Jean was definitely starting to feel a buzz. He couldn't keep track of his thoughts or his tongue.

  
    Eren stared at him, about to question who he was about to mention but a loud voice yelled over the kitchen crowd.

 

    "Who's ready to play a fucking game!?"

  
    Various voices called out in agreement.

  
    The freckled girl who was yelling grinned.

  
    "All right, ya cocksuckers. What game should we play?"

  
    "Kiss and blow!" A voice called out.

  
    "Nah, something else."

  
    "Beer pong!" Another person replied.

  
    The girl stuck out her tongue I'm disgust, "Too cliche."

  
    "Spin the bottle!"

  
    A series of groans rang through the room.

  
    The girl smirked, "Spin the bottle it is!"

  
    Jean groaned along with the others, "What is this? Sixth grade? This is a high school party, for fuck's sake!"

  
    "Should be fun," Marco responded from behind Jean.

  
    "Dude, where were you?"

  
    "I heard someone mention brownies and went to check on Sasha. She was hitting it off with a first-year. I'm kind of worried...they seemed way too comfortable with each other."

  
    Jean looked surprised, "And you're not going to punch him in the face for hitting on your girlfriend?"

  
    Marco blushed, "W-whoa, uh, no. Sasha and I aren't like that." He ran a finger under his nose in embarrassment, "She's a friend. I'm not...no. I'm single."

  
    "Really? That sucks. You definitely seem the type to have the chicks falling all over you."

  
    Marco's face turned a darker shade of red, "S-Stop, I'm not cool enough for that."

  
    "Hey, just calling it how I see it. I'm honest, ya know," Jean chugged down the rest of his second—or was it third?—beer.

  
    The kitchen crowd started moving towards a door that seemed to lead to the basement. Jean followed, with Marco in tow.

  
    People started forming a circle and Jean sat down. He looked across from him and noticed a familiar black-haired Asian girl.

  
    His breath hitched and his heart started pounding against his ribcage.

  
    _Holy fuck, oh my god, holy crap, are you freaking kidding me!?_

  
    Marco sat beside him, "Ymir sure is trying to outdo last year."

  
    "Who?"

  
    He motioned towards the freckled girl standing up, "That's Ymir, Reiner's right-hand man. Well, right after Bert, that is."

  
    Jean stared at Marco, not masking any of his confusion.

  
    "Uh, Bert is Reiner's boyfriend," Marco explained.

  
    Jean's lips formed an 'o'.

  
    "I didn't think he was...wow. Reiner doesn't look like it."

  
    Marco shrugged, "I don't think there's a certain way _to_  look. I mean, everyone's normal so..."

  
    The two were saved from an awkward debate when Ymir announced the game was about to begin.

  
    "Wow, I haven't played this game since middle school. Awkward way to lose your first kiss."

  
    Jean laughed nervously, "Heh, yeah. Middle school, fun times, heh."

  
    Like hell he was going to tell Marco he'd never had his first kiss before.

  
    Sure he'd been to parties...okay, just once in sixth grade. But Jean had to leave the party as soon as the group has started playing any inappropriate games. He still resented his middle school curfew. It was probably another reason why he didn't have friends. No one wanted to hang out with a guy who had to be home by five.

  
    Regardless, Jean was going to play this stupid game even if it killed him. With Mikasa sitting right across from him, he had a goal set.

  
    Jean began to calculate that if he turned his wrist just enough for the bottle not to spin too much, he could get the bottle to land right on Mikasa.

  
    It was basic physics, he told himself.

  
    It still didn't help the fact that he felt his heart was about to jump out of his chest.

  
    The game began and Ymir spun first. It landed on a cute, blonde girl who Jean reckoned was even shorter than his French teacher.

  
    The girl stood up and got on her tippy toes and Ymir grabbed her by the waist and planted a giant kiss on her lips.

  
    Jean expected them to part soon after but was surprised to see them still kissing.

  
    Some people whistled as it seemed like Ymir was about to slip the girl the tongue.

  
    "Whoa," Jean's mouth dropped open. He wasn't going to lie, he thought it was pretty hot.

  
    "Girls aren't going to want to kiss you with the amount of drool slipping from your mouth," Marco nudged him in the ribs.

  
    "S-Shut up," Jean wiped his mouth just in case.

  
    Before he knew it, it was Marco's turn. It landed on a pretty girl with pigtails who looked like she could've been Marco's sister.

  
    _Awkward._

  
    Marco took his turned and pecked the girl chastely before sitting back down.

  
    Jean snorted, "Prude."

  
    "Respectable."

  
    Jean's hand slightly shook as he got ready to spin the bottle.

  
    _All right, Jean. One turn to the left and then let go to the right. Just a flick of the wrist..._

  
    And he let it go. He felt like he was going to vomit from the tension.

  
    The bottle didn't spin as fast or as long as others, which was exactly what Jean wanted. It slowed down and stopped. Jean looked up at whom it pointed to.

  
    Jean squinted, it had landed right in between Mikasa and...Eren.

  
    "Who's gonna take the call?" Ymir asked.

  
    "Not me," Mikasa muttered.

  
    Jean's heart dropped, "R-Redo!"

  
    Ymir shook her head, "No redoes, kiddo. Go up and smooch that boy."

  
    Eren looked just as pale as he did.

  
    "Don't you fucking dare."

  
    "It's not like I want to either," Jean said, standing up.

  
    "Why? Don't got the _cojones_ for it?" Eren challenged.

  
    "Fuck no."

  
    "Don't tell me you're a _prude_. Johnny boy never got his first kiss before? Is that it?"

  
    Jean grabbed the front of Eren's shirt and crashed his lips again the shorter boy's.

  
    The kiss lasted a bit longer than he intended. Mostly due to the fact that he took Eren by surprise. Though Eren started pushing away once his brain caught up.

  
    "Ugh! Fucking- did you just-"

  
    Jean smirked, "Who's got the cojones now, motherfucker."

  
    Jean turned around and headed towards the door, "I'm out."

  
   He practically sprinted up the stairs and bumped into a familiar blond.

  
    "Sorry! Oh, hi again, Jean." Armin looked up at Jean.

  
    Jean felt his ears go red and clamped a hand over his mouth.

  
    "Jean, are you okay?"

  
    The teen in question felt bile coming up his esophagus.

  
    Marco ran up the stairs just in time to see Jean throw up in front of Armin.

  
    Armin glanced up at Marco with a confused look on his face.

  
    Marco rubbed his friend's back, "He kinda sorta just kissed Eren..."

  
    "Oh my..."

  
    "Fucking Jaeger," Jean managed to get out before grabbing onto Armin's sweater vest.

  
    _This is so not fucking awesome._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the first part to a 3 part series. The other 2 will be alternate endings to the main storyline. You'll see :3
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you all enjoyed it ^.^
> 
> P.S. Rating WILL go up since I have some smut planned for later on~ So stay tuned!


	2. Freckled Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "H-Holy shit. How can you be that good? Jesus Christ," Jean said breathlessly.
> 
> Marco chuckled, "I'm Italian. It's in my blood."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, guys, thank you sooo much!! I didn't think the first chapter would get as many hits as it did, thank you!
> 
> So as a special thank you, I finished up chapter 2 and have posted it :D
> 
> I'll be posting chapter previews, fanmixes, and fanart of this fic on my tumblr so if anyone wants to follow, my URL is mementoreimori
> 
> I'm also tracking the fic: poh tag so feel free to post anything there or message me at any time! ^.^ 
> 
> Again, thank you so much and I hope you enjoy the chapter!!

  The next week paled in comparison to that first day. Jean dreaded going to school. He tried to avoid Eren as much as he could but to no avail.

  
    As luck would have it, he had his schedule slightly changed. His revised schedule spelled Hell for him since he was transferred into more of Eren's classes.

  
    Jean's current gym class was one of them.

  
    "Come on, it's not that bad, man," Connie said as he tossed Jean a ball.

  
    "Not that bad? Dude, yesterday people were making catcalls at me! All because of that stupid faggot Eren," Jean threw back the ball harshly.

  
    "It's seriously all in your head. No one _gives_ a damn who you kissed. I kissed a few people and you don't see _me_ getting heat for it."

  
    "What? You didn't tell me you played too."

  
    Connie shrugged, "After seeing you puke on that one kid, I was curious what was going on down in Reiner's basement."

  
    "Huh...so who'd you kiss?"

  
    "I dunno, man. Some douchebag with slicked back hair and this really cool chick I met who was trying to eat all the weed brownies Ymir made. She's hella funny, bro. She was so fucking insane, it was perfect."

  
    Jean's eyebrows shot up, "Are you talking about Sasha?"

  
    "Yeah! You know her?"

  
    _So HE'S the bald kid Marco meant. Fucking figures._

  
    "She's the one who told me about the party. I thought she was Marco's girlfriend at first."

  
    Jean vaguely heard their gym teacher call up the next group of boys to test their skill at running a lap around the track.

  
    "You mean she's not?" Connie asked as he dropped the ball and jogged towards the track.

  
    Jean waved a hand as he saw Marco running towards them.

  
    "Nah, man. They're just friends. You can even ask him yourself." Jean said before turning back to Marco. "How was it?"

  
    Marco wiped his sweat with his t-shirt, "Easy-peesy."

  
    Jean stared at Marco in disbelief.

  
    "K-Kidding."

  
    Jean groaned, "This stupid test is going to kill me."

  
    Connie nodded and groaned in unison.

  
    "That's 'cause you're a fucking wimp, Kirschtein!"

  
    Jean flipped Eren off, "Get the fuck away from me, shithead. I don't want people getting the wrong idea."

  
    "What? That you like taking it up the ass like a whore?" Eren smirked as he got ready to run the lap.

  
    Jean got on the track, "You won’t be laughing when I wipe that shit-eating grin off your face."

  
    "Last one to finish is dick cheese," Eren jumped from side to side in anticipation.

  
    "You're fucking _on_."

  
    Marco collapsed onto the grass and watched the two underclassmen from afar.

   

    "Those two seem like best friends, huh?"

  
    Reiner's boisterous laugh could be heard from across the grassy field, "Frenemies, more like it. They should just fuck and call it a day. Get rid of all that tension already."

  
    The teacher's yell of "go!" rang through the field, signaling for the boys to begin running.

  
    "Ten bucks says Eren beats him," Reiner nudged Marco.

  
    Marco lifted an eyebrow, "You're _betting_ on them?"

  
    Reiner grinned, "Hey, gotta pass the time somehow. So what's it gonna be?"

  
    "As a good friend, I'll be in Jean's corner."

  
    "By default, I'll bet on Eren," came a voice from behind Reiner.

  
    Armin kneeled next to Marco and smiled sheepishly.

  
    "Well whaddya know. Blond boy's got a devious side to him," Reiner laughed.

  
    "You should see him in our debate class. It hasn't even been two weeks and he's already managed to win four debates!" Marco was close to bragging about his classmate.

  
    "I'm not nearly as great as you make me sound. I just use basic logic and deduction to make my claims..."

  
    Reiner whistled, "Blond _and_ brainy! Amazing. Tell ya what, if Eren wins, I'll give you double what I'm betting. I'm putting my trust in you, lil' bro."

  
    Armin blushed, "L-Lil' bro? Well...I might not be right but I'll bet on Eren anyway..."

  
    The three sat together and watched as Eren and Jean sprinted past each other. Jean took the lead but by the time they were three-quarters around the track, it was clear who the winner was going to be.

  
    Marco frowned slightly, "He's getting tired."

  
    "I would be surprised if he won. Eren has played soccer since we were little," Armin bit his lip as he watched Eren get close to the end of the track.

  
    "He should try out for the soccer team," Reiner included. "Marco's goalie and I'm defense. With guys like us and Thomas Wagner on the team, our team's unbeatable!"

  
    In a matter of seconds, Eren made it around the track and to where his group of friends was sitting.

  
    Moments later Jean followed suit and collapsed onto the grass next to Eren.

  
    "F-Fucking..." Jean breathed heavily. "How do you...fuck...crazy..."

  
    Eren chuckled and immediately regretted it when he began coughing.

  
    Reiner stared at Marco expectantly with his hand out, "Pay up, Polo, you lose."

  
    Marco shrugged and paid Reiner, who added his own ten dollars before passing it onto Armin.

  
    "You guys...bet on...us?" Jean asked sitting up a bit.

  
    Marco smiled sheepishly.

  
    A little while later, the rest of the boys finished running the track and fell onto the grass accordingly.

  
    "Jesus, guys. How did you even..." Connie looked as if he was about to pass out.

  
    "Ten years of soccer," Eren breathed out.

  
    Jean lifted three fingers, "T-Three of lacrosse."

  
    "Fucking monsters, I swear." Connie replied.

  
    "As captain of the soccer team, I believe it is my duty to recommend you two to try out for my team," Reiner leaned over Eren's head before turning to Connie, "And you too, baldy. If you can keep up, that is."

  
    "I feel...like I'm gonna have a heart attack," the bald teen groaned.

  
    A third, and final, group was called up to test on the track.

  
    Armin stood up and mumbled something under his breath.

  
    "Shut up, you're not gonna die," Eren interjected.

  
    "He might die," Jean teased.

  
    Eren kicked him in the shin before waving Armin off.

  
    He was going to get an earful during lunch.  


* * *

 

    Jean barely noticed his guitar and World History classes go by. The latter of which he spent playing games on his phone.

  
    When the fifth period bell rang, Jean felt like crying.

  
    "Why couldn't they change my fifth period along with all my other fucking classes?" Jean complained as he gathered up his books.

  
    "Dunno man, it's probably punishment for choosing such a bogus language in the first place," Connie slung his backpack over his shoulder.

  
    "Levi's fucking brutal. He expects us to pass next week's test and all I know is that Monday is like _luhn-dee_ or something. Fucking bullshit, that's what it is."

  
    "Whatever, bro. I gotta get to art. See ya in geometry."

  
    "Tell Eren he's a fucking asshole!" Jean called out to Connie.

  
    "I'm not passing on your stupid love confessions! Tell him yourself next period!"

  
    Jean shook his head as he walked to his French class. He was going to have to kill Eren soon so people would stop assuming things about them. Clearly it _must_ be Eren's fault. As if Jean had _no_ part in setting himself up.

  
    Once Jean got to his French class, he shuffled to his seat next to Armin.

  
    The kid looked like shit, but Jean said nothing. Considering how thin Armin looked, Jean was sure the blond barely did any physical activity.

  
    Soon after, the bell rang thus signaling the beginning of the period.

  
    As Levi began writing on the board, Jean could already tell it was going to be a long day.

  
    He glanced to his side and noticed Armin had his head down, probably due to exhaustion.

  
    "Arlert, no sleeping in class," their teacher's voice rang throughout the classroom.

  
    _He's not even looking. He's facing the board. What is he? Some kinda demon? Jesus Christ..._

  
    Then Jean got an idea.

  
    "Armin's gonna hurl, Monsieur Levi."

  
    Levi broke the chalk he had been using and turned towards Jean and Armin.

  
    His face contorted in disgust, "Leave. Take him to the nurse, bring him home, I don't give a fuck just get him out of here."

  
    Jean didn't need to be told twice. Before Armin could protest, he grabbed the smaller blond and walked him out the classroom door.

  
    As he walked them down the hall, he saw Armin smile a bit.

  
    "Did you just use me as an excuse to get out of class?"

  
    "Yeah well, I know you'd rather be resting in the nurse's office than sitting in that asshole's class anyway."

  
    "...Not going to argue with that..."

  
    The nurse's office was across the school but the slow walk there was far from uninvited. If anything, it was slightly uncomfortable.

  
    What was he expected to talk about? He'd only known the kid for about a week or so. And all he knew about him was that he's smart and Eren's childhood friend. That's about it, really.

  
    Luckily, he didn't have to try and talk for much longer since they made it to the nurse's office before he realized it.

  
    "Are...are you gonna be okay? Do you want me to stay or something?" Jean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

  
    Armin shook his head, "I'm fine. Just going to take a nap for a bit."

  
    "O-Okay then...uh, see ya, I guess."

  
    Jean began his journey back to class, taking the long way this time.

  
    When he reached the boy's bathroom, he noticed a familiar freckled face coming out of the door.

  
    "Slacking off, Freckles?"

  
    Marco stopped to turn to him, "Oh, hi Jean! I'm not slacking off exactly...Italian is just a bit...slow."

  
    "Too easy?"

  
    Marco shrugged, "I grew up around it so taking a class on it seems a bit redundant, but I still had to fulfill my language credits so..."

  
    Jean paused, "Wait, you can speak Italian?"

  
    "Huh? Oh, yeah, I can. My mom's from Italy so she's always speaking it at home."

  
    "That's pretty cool," Jean admitted. He'd never had multi-lingual acquaintances before.

  
    "It's not that amazing, really. Anyway, how about you? What are _you_ doing walking around?" Marco smirked.

  
    "Not even gonna lie, French was gonna kill me today. I understand jackshit. And Armin was tired from running that lap today so I just took the opportunity to get outta class and walk him to the nurse."

  
    "Wow, you really _are_ slacking off." Marco raised his eyebrows.

  
    "Hey, just being honest. No reason to lie."

  
    The two teens walked in the opposite direction of their language classes in silence.

  
    "So...are you going to try out for the soccer team?" Marco asked, trying to start a conversation.

  
    "Uh, sure, yeah. When is it?"

  
    "Next week."

  
    "What? Seriously?"

  
    "Yep, why?"

  
    "...Just...thought I had more time than that. I mean, lacrosse is similar but…I mean ball control, man..."

  
    "I can teach you, if you want."

  
    "What? No, I mean..."

  
    "That's what you were worried about, right? You were going to teach yourself, weren't you?"

  
    "Well, yeah but- you'll really teach me?"

  
    Marco nodded, "Of course! When are you free?"

  
    "Any day you are, I guess."

  
    "Great! Okay, hm...how about we meet up after school today? Is two-thirty all right? Gives us time to head down to the locker room and change. I mean, if you want. Unless you don't want to meet today, then I get it. Sorry I'm all-"

  
    "Two-thirty is perfect. No need to geek out, Freckles." Jean interrupted.

  
    Marco giggled, "Ah, good. I was worried I was too pushy..."

  
    "Nah, if you were, I'd probably tell you to fuck off."

  
    "Oh...well, thanks, I guess?" Marco bit his lip. "Okay, um, I have to get to class now. I think the period's going to be over soon..."

  
    "Huh? Oh, okay. See you at lunch then." Jean tilted his head up as Marco turned around and walked towards his Italian class.

  
    Jean shoved his hands into his pockets and wandered around the school one more time before walking towards his French class.

  
    _Angry midget's probably gonna yell at me for getting to class late._ Jean internally groaned. _But hey, at least I'm getting private lessons. Now Eren won't one-up me anymore, that arrogant asshat._  


* * *

 

    Jean slammed his locker and looked as if he was about to something.

  
    "You're going to break that poor locker."

  
    Jean glanced to his left and saw Marco set down his bag.

  
    "That fucking _douchebag_!"

  
    Marco fought the urge to laugh, "What did Eren do this time?"

  
    "Okay so like, you know how Mikasa's my lab partner in bio, right?"

  
    Marco nodded.

  
    "Well today she wasn't there, so obviously I was concerned, ya know, 'cause I saw her at lunch but she wasn't in lab.  Anyway, so I'm all like, 'Gee, I hope Mikasa's all right.’ And so this fucking _asshole_ Eren was all like 'She switched classes because she thought you were so fucking creepy.' Can you fucking _believe_ the _nerve_ on that little shit!?"

  
    Marco gaped, "She switched classes because of you?"

  
    "What? No! Hell no! I was just worried and Eren took that chance to get under my skin like always. Stupid shit, he's just jealous that I was her partner and he wasn’t." Jean huffed.

  
    Marco bit his lip and debated whether he should break it to Jean or not.

  
    "What is it? What's wrong?"

  
    "Uh, no, it's nothing," Marco faked a smile.

  
    Jean shrugged but let it go and instead focused on changing into his gym clothes.

  
    "So the field's free all of ninth period?" The two-toned teen asked.

  
    "Yep. The soccer team usually uses it for practice, but since the season hasn't officially started yet, no one's claimed it."

  
    "That's kinda cool. Got the whole field all to ourselves."

  
    Both teens finished changing and went up to the soccer field.

  
    "All right, so before we start, you can do some warm ups. Nothing major, just enough to get all stretched out," Marco dictated.

  
    Jean nodded and did just so. He sat on the ground and leaned over his legs, stretching out his hamstrings.

  
    "So how long have you been playing?"

  
    "Hm, not sure, actually. Growing up in an Italian family, it feels like I've been playing soccer since birth," Marco laughed.

  
    "So your family has big World Cup parties, huh?"

  
    Marco spread his legs and touched his right foot with his left hand.

  
    "Kind of...it's mostly my mom who's into soccer. We usually don't have parties unless my grandparents or uncles visit from Italy."

  
    "What about your dad? More of a _football americano_ type then?" Jean snorted at his own attempt at sounding cultured.

  
    Marco stood up, "It's just me, my mom, and little brother. No mister Bodt around unfortunately."

  
    "Fuck, sorry-"

  
    The freckled teen shook his head, "It's not like that. I mean he's not dead. At least, I don't think so. I just...never knew him, you know? He wasn't around and then my mom moved on, I guess, so...yeah, just my loud Italian mother and energetic eight-year-old brother."

  
    Jean finished stretching and stood up, "That sounds...homey."

  
    Marco giggled, "Yeah, I suppose it is. Anyway, let's get started, shall we?"

  
    _Hell yeah! I got this!_  


* * *

 

    Despite Marco's compliments, Jean's ball control was absolute shit.

  
    It was the day before soccer try-outs, and Jean had mastered everything Marco taught him.

  
    Except simple ground ball control.

  
    Marco kicked the ball between his feet, "Just...pass it to your other foot. But make sure you don't stop. Run with it, Jean."

  
    "I'm trying! I mean, I can fucking pass it and balance it on my knees but I can't even freakin' _run_ with it!" He began to get annoyed with himself.

  
    Marco frowned, "Don't worry, Jean, you've got time. Just take it slow. Don't force it. Let the ball lead and use your feet to guide it."

  
    Jean looked down at his feet and concentrated on dribbling the ball despite Marco's advice.

  
    "Don't look down!"

  
    Jean yelled out in frustration as he tore his eyes from the ground.

  
    "I can't! I'm gonna fucking trip on it!"

  
    Marco ran alongside him, "No you won't. I have faith in you. You can do this, Jean."

  
    Jean stared at Marco and saw the soft smile the older teen had on his face.

  
    _He really thinks I can do this. He seriously believes I can..._

  
    Before he knew it, Jean was dribbling the ball. He wasn't sure when it started, but it was happening.

  
    Jean was tempted to glance back down but Marco caught his attention.

  
    "Look at me, Jean."

  
    Jean's eyes met his.

  
    Marco smiled widened, "You can do this."

  
    Despite his insecurity, Jean returned the smile and looked forward towards the goal.

  
_I can do this._

  
    Jean stared straight ahead and thought of the moves Marco had taught him. He sprinted down the center and dribbled the ball almost perfectly. Once he got close enough to the goal, he shifted from side to side and kicked the ball with all his might.

  
    Jean felt as the ball left the ground and took air, just to hit the net seconds later.

  
    He stopped and breathed heavily.

  
    "I did it."

  
    Marco jogged up behind him, "You did."

  
    Jean almost felt like crying. He wasn't going to make a fool out of himself at try-outs. He could actually _do_ this.

  
    Jean then glanced at the ball Marco had been dribbling and grinned.

  
    He kicked the ball between Marco's legs and maneuvered around the freckled teen.

  
    "Best two out of three! Loser buys shakes in town!" Jean called out as he ran down the center with the soccer ball.

  
    After getting over the initial shock, Marco ran after Jean.

  
    "Don't count too heavily on beginner's luck, Jean!" Marco called out.

  
    "Don't be crying when this noob kicks your ass, Freckles!"  


* * *

 

    "H-Holy shit. How can you be that good? Jesus Christ," Jean said breathlessly.

  
    Marco chuckled, "I'm Italian. It's in my blood."

  
    Jean closed his eyes as he leaned his head back onto the grass.

  
    After running for hours on end, the two teens found comfort in the cool grass.

  
    Jean still couldn't believe he'd spent the weekend and most of his third week of school learning how to play soccer.

  
    From an upperclassman he'd just met, no less.

  
    Jean opened his eyes and stared up at the sky. He squinted when he realized the sun was still shining strongly.

  
    "Hey, Marco...can I ask you something?"

  
    Marco turned on his side and propped his head up on his hand.

  
    "Yeah, shoot."

  
    "Why'd you do this?"

  
    Marco's eyebrows furrowed, "Do what?"

  
    "Teach me. Why did you take time out of your life to teach some snot-nosed first-year how to play soccer?"

  
    Jean's mind raced with possibilities. Had Marco just done it to say he'd helped an underclassman and seem like a "nice guy"?

  
    No, that didn't seem like him.

  
    Then had he just really needed more team members for his soccer team?

  
    It was possible, but he'd say so. At least Jean hoped he would.

  
    But if those weren't the case, then what could possibly be Marco's motivation to help a guy he just met not even a month prior?

  
    His heart beat rapidly.

  
    _Shit, that was a stupid question. Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut, Jean? Just accept his kindness and don't question it. You're lucky you got lessons at all._

  
    Jean refused to make eye contact, and kept his eyes concentrated on the bright sky above him.

  
    "Because you're my friend, of course."

  
    Jean's eyes darted to the freckled teen.

  
    "What?"

  
    Marco's bottom lip folded in between his teeth, "I, er...I figured you're my friend and if you needed help, I'd gladly do so...but sorry, I guess I was wrong." Marco began to sit up, clearly overthinking just as much as Jean was.

  
    "No, that's not...no...I was just surprised. You think of me as a friend?" Jean could practically feel his ears redden.

  
    It was Marco's turn to be confused, "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

  
    Jean sighed out a mix between relief and nervousness. He sat up and fiddled with some strands of grass.

  
    "I...didn't exactly have friends in middle school. I mean, sure I had people I talked to at lunch and stuff, but there wasn't really anyone I hung out with or played League with or sat next to during class trips. My teammates were mostly assholes but lacrosse was fun, so I played but didn't really socialize. So when I came here and you talked to me and sat with me at lunch and Connie asked for my number and Reiner had his party and everyone had fun...it was...new. But I didn't think we were all on the 'friend' level yet. I still feel...like an outsider...fuck, I'm just rambling on. I don't even know what I mean anymore, ignore me."

  
    Jean flushed and covered his face with his hands.

  
    Suddenly Jean felt an arm around him, pressing him into a broader chest.

  
    "What the-"

  
    "You're my friend, Jean."

  
    Jean felt his heart was going to stop.

  
    He never had a friend like this...it felt like a commitment he wasn't sure he could make.

   

    Jean’s parents weren’t big on physical affection, so he felt awkward being held by another person, especially another guy his age. But somehow, the warm embrace helped placate his anxiety.

 

    The younger teen relaxed slightly and breathed out. But just as he grew accustomed to the hug, Marco let go.

 

    "S-Sorry...my family's really touchy-feely so..." He ran a hand through his hair, "I'm sorry. You don't have to respond. It's okay if you don't consider me as a friend. I just, I wanted to let you know that you're not an outsider. You're actually really fun to be around and I think you're a good friend. Is that okay?"

  
    Jean couldn't find any words to describe the feeling in the pit of his stomach, so he just nodded.

  
    He felt tears prickle the corner of his eyes so he quickly stood up.

  
    "C-Come on, Freckles. Time to shower and hit town," Jean felt his voice crack in embarrassment. "We're stuffing our faces tonight." He offered a hand.

  
    Marco took the younger teen's hand and pulled himself up.

  
    "Heck yeah," Marco grinned.

  
    Jean shook his head, "Dork."

 


	3. Blame and Blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's teenage angst phase isn't completely over. I mean, dude's fresh out of middle school. Of course he's angry at the whole world.
> 
> Well that and his home life is pretty shitty.
> 
> So this is basically a story of how Jean likes to blame everyone and everything for his misfortunes. Also a story of Connie's ambiguous sexuality. 
> 
> Oh and look, more teenage bonding. How cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! I made a playlist for this fic and it's pretty exciting!
> 
> Here's the link: [Where Your Treasure Is](http://8tracks.com/reimori/where-your-treasure-is)
> 
> It can also be found on my tumblr (mementoreimori) and on the fic: poh tag
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter and the playlist! ^.^

    Jean tossed his cleats into his duffle bag.  
  
    "Where are you going?" A voice came from the living room.  
  
    The teen grimaced, "Out."  
  
    "Since when do you go out?"  
  
    "Since now." Jean ground his teeth.  
  
    _He hasn't been gone a day and she's already starting with me._ _  
  
_Jean's mother walked towards him, "When are you coming back?"  
  
    Jean stared at his mother. He noticed a certain look in her eyes that she always had whenever his father left.  
  
    Loneliness.  
  
    The teen felt his anger increase. Though he wasn't sure whether he was mad at his father for doing this again or at his mom for letting it happen.  
  
    Jean aggressively pulled on his sneakers and slung his duffle bag over his shoulder.  
  
    "Soon."  
  
    He heard his mother begin to say something but he quickly walked out of the house and slammed the door behind him.  
  
    Jean felt his fists shake at his side.  
  
 _I fucking hate her. She's so annoying and it's all HIS fault. That bastard. He does this every fucking time. IhatehimIhatehimIhatehim.  
_  
    The teen was sure he was about to lose it. He had nothing to punch this time. Nothing to throw. No one to take it out on.  
  
    So Jean quickly grabbed his iPod and haphazardly put his headphones in. He pressed play.  
  
 _Breathe, Jean. Breathe._ He bobbed his head to the music _. Forget...just forget._ _  
  
_As the music sped up, so did Jean's walking.  
  
    When the bass dropped, Jean took that as a sign to let it all out.  
  
    So he ran.

* * *

 

    "You _ran_ here?" Marco said astonished.  
  
    Jean shrugged, "Yeah, why?"  
  
    "N-No reason. I'm just surprised. If you needed a ride, you could've called me."  
  
    Jean glanced to the side, "It's fine. I needed a good workout to get pumped up for try-outs anyway."  
  
    Marco frowned, "You need to save up your energy. I heard Reiner is going to be tough with you guys."  
  
    "Dude, you kicked my butt into soccer player shape in a week. Reiner can throw anything he's got at me. I can take it," Jean grinned.  
  
    "Okay, if you say so."  
  
    Jean quickly changed into his cleats and wiggled his feet around.  
  
    "You actually showed up, Kirschtein?" Eren's voice rang from behind Jean.  
  
    The taller teen closed his eyes and breathed out.  
  
    "Not today, Eren."  
  
    Eren stumbled back, clearly confused by Jean's lack of reaction to his antagonizing.  
  
    "A-And why not? Scared I'm gonna show you up and get chosen over you?"  
  
    Jean glared at the green-eyed teen.  
  
    "I'll get on that team, Jaeger. Make no mistake about that." Jean slowly got closer to Eren until their faces were just inches apart. "You may be faster, but shit, I've got some serious skill."  
  
    Eren looked amused, "Feeling confident?"  
  
    "Fuck yes."  
  
    "Get a room, you two!" A husky voice called out.  
  
    Jean instinctively pushed Eren back.  
  
    "The fuck was that for!?" Eren complained, rubbing at his chest.  
  
    Jean ignored him and turned to the direction the husky voice had come from.  
  
    "It's not like that!"  
  
    A group of boys began to laugh and Jean felt his face heat up both in anger and in embarrassment.  
  
    Jean was about to walk over and smack their smug looks off their faces but a hand on his shoulder held him back.  
  
    "Try-outs are about to start. Warm up." Jean shivered as he felt Marco's warm, soothing voice by his ear.  
  
    "But those assholes-"  
  
    "You'll show them. You've got talent, Jean. You said so yourself. You can beat them. With soccer, I mean." Marco awkwardly chuckled.  
  
    "Geek." Jean muttered before shuffling to the field.  
  
    Soon enough, Reiner arrived with a few upperclassmen and he whistled to get the boys' attentions.  
  
    "Yo! Okay, my name's Reiner. I'm the captain of this team. These are my guys: Thomas, Millius, Marco, Franz, Samuel, Nack, Tom, and Boris. We have nine starting players since the others graduated last year. That means we have two open spots. As well as a few bench warmers, of course. If you want to be a starter, show us the best you can do and the coach and I will make the decision." Reiner paused for a second, "Speaking of which. I'd like to introduce our coach, Erwin Smith."  
  
    A tall blond man came out from behind the upperclassmen. Jean hadn't realized an adult among them. A handsome, built, adult at that.  
  
    "Thank you for the introduction, Braun." He turned to the underclassmen, "I'm sure I don't need to say much since Reiner has said most of it. However, I would like to be clear on a few things. Unlike other schools, our try-outs are just one day. The season's coming up soon so we have no time to waste. I hope you've all warmed up and stretched because you'll be doing an Indian run around the field for about twenty minutes. Then we'll move onto a practice game against the upperclassmen. I may add extra exercises depending on the skill level I witness here today. I look forward to seeing some of you on my team. Good luck, boys."  
  
    Erwin smiled charmingly before stepping to the side and letting Reiner command once again.  
  
    "Okay, ya noobs. Time to get running! Indian run, everyone!" Reiner called out.  
  
    The upperclassmen formed a line and the younger boys followed suit.  
  
    _Okay, not bad. Light work. I can do this_. Jean thought to himself.  
  
   Jean jogged into the file after the upperclassmen followed Reiner. He ended up behind Connie and in front of Eren.  
  
   "Ever done this before?" Connie whispered as he jogged.  
  
   "Yeah, it's not that bad. Until it's your turn to run, that is."  
  
   Connie grimaced, "Do we gotta sprint?"  
  
   "Yeah."  
  
   "All right, good. 'Cause that's all I'm good at."  
  
   The group of boys made it around the field with no problem. Connie's turn came and he sprinted quicker than any of the other boys had.  
  
   "Little fucker can run, huh?" Eren breathy chuckle came from behind Jean.  
  
   "Less friction on you when you got no hair and you're short as hell," Jean replied.  
  
   A whistle blew, signaling for Jean to take his turn.  
  
   "Don't trip," Eren snickered.  
  
   Jean flipped him the finger as he ran to the front.  
  
   The group continued for another several rounds, leaving Connie breathless and Jean a bit winded.  
  
   "Good job, boys! Ten-minute cool down and we'll move onto the game." Coach Erwin's baritone voice announced. "Reiner, your call for positions."  
  
   "Yes, sir, Coach!" Reiner plopped down onto the grass and his teammates did the same. "All right, my guys: same positions as always. New kids, anybody got specific positions they're used to?"  
  
   Eren raised his hand and yelled out, "Offense for me. Doesn't matter what side."  
  
   The other boys started calling out their own positions, leaving Jean and Connie a bit confused as to which positions they'd be best at.  
  
   "Dude, I thought you said you were on lacrosse or some shit," Connie nudged Jean.  
  
   "Well yeah, but it's different. Center forward is pretty different when you're not cradling a cross and instead trying to kick a ball across the fucking field."  
  
   "What's that, Kirschtein? You want Center Forward?" Reiner called Jean out.  
  
   Jean froze, "Uh, y-yeah, sure, yeah, okay, Rein-, Captain."  
  
   "Awesome, got a star player already for the freshies. Show us what you got, first-year," Reiner's boisterous laugh resonated throughout the field.  
  
   Connie's eyebrows shot up and turned to Jean, "Star player?"  
  
   Jean felt like he was going to throw up, "He's going to be watching me."  
  
   "Well, no shit. But what does he mean 'star player'?"  
  
   "I'm going to be in the middle of the field. Right in the center of everything. All eyes are on me...fuck!"  
  
   Even though Jean whispered his worries, some heads turned to see what his harsh words were about.

  "Good luck with that, man." Connie looked at Jean with a look akin to sympathy before leaving to get a drink of water.  
  
    _I'm gonna die. I'm gonna fucking die. And all because that fucking hulk-ass Reiner has some supersonic hearing. Like seriously, what the fuck!?_  
  
    Jean bent down to tighten the laces to his cleats when Marco jogged over.  
  
    "Pretty nervous, huh?"  
  
    The look on Jean's face must have said it all because Marco unintentionally took a step back.  
  
    "Reiner's going to fucking _devour_ me out there. I just perfected my ball control yesterday! And he's been playing for who knows how long. I'm dead, Marco. Dead!"  
  
    Jean remained squatting on the grass, head practically bent between his knees.  
  
    Marco bent down next to Jean. "Hey, don't sell yourself short. Yeah you're pretty new to all this, but you've got this. Be the guy you'd want Mikasa to see."  
  
    Jean's ears perked up, "You think she'd find me hot?"  
  
    "Most definitely. The hottest hottie ever," the freckled teen giggled.  
  
    Jean playfully punched Marco in the arm. "What a dweeb, Jesus Christ." He stood up and pulled his friend up with him. "All right, you got me convinced. No more wishy-washy baby crap. I'm set."  
  
    "Good. Now no hard feelings if I block your shots, right?" Marco said with a smile.  
  
    Jean's mouth gaped slightly, "You're evil."  
  
    "Nuh-uh! I'm the _goalie_ , Jean. It's my job to block the shots."  
  
    "I thought you were my friend," Jean teased.  
  
    "Italians don't have friends during soccer games." Marco joked.  
  
    Jean held up his hands playfully, "Whoa there, no need to get all Marcolini on me."  
  
    Marco shook his head, "You're learning about World War Two in class, aren't you?"  
  
    The younger teen scoffed, "Implying I actually pay attention, psh. Nah, I glanced over at Armin's textbook during class yesterday. He's studying ahead for some odd reason. Fucking overachiever."  
  
    Coach Erwin's whistle blew and Jean briefly felt his stomach knot up.  
  
    "That was the shortest ten minutes of my life."  
  
    Marco slipped his gloves on. "Good luck, Jean."  
  
    "Yeah, you too."  
  
    Their eyes met reassuringly before they separated onto opposite sides of the field.  
  
    _Don't fuck up, Kirschtein. Don't try to be a show off. Don't even look at that douchbag Eren. Focus on the goal. Just run towards Marco and kick that ball into that motherfucking net. You got this!_  
  
    A wide smile appeared on Jean's face as he took his position on the center of the field, opposite Reiner.  
  
    "Ready to battle, first-year?" The tall blond teen asked.  
  
    "Hell yeah," Jean felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he shifted from side to side.  
  
    The referee, a team benchwarmer, took out a coin. "Pick a side, Captain."  
  
    Reiner looked up for a bit as if to think about it. "Hm...let's go with _heads_." Jean swore he saw the older teen wink as he overemphasized his words but it was probably just the adrenaline talking.  
  
    The coin was tossed into the air. Jean's eyes followed it expectantly and once it hit the ground, he nearly felt his heart stop.  
  
    "Tails!"  
  
    "Looks like the odds might be your favor, Kirschtein." Reiner grinned.  
  
    Jean smiled as if he just won the lottery. "Fuck yeah."

* * *

  
    They were losing by three points. Jean's team was playing shittily. Not to mention Jean himself was a complete and utter wreck. The only person who was actually making any shots was Eren, much to Jean's chagrin.  
  
    _You done fucked up, Jean. You had a chance and that fucker just showed you up._  
  
    The game was in the last five minutes of the second half. There was absolutely no way they were going to make a come back. Not with Connie out of breath, Jean barely being able to follow the ball, and the rest of the guys just sucking majorly.  
  
    Jean had started off the game feeling confident and secure with his newfound skills but that quickly went down the drain shortly after his first attempt at making a goal.  
  
    Getting passed Reiner wasn't an issue. Jean found that passing the ball to Connie was actually the greatest decision he ever made. The bald teen quickly sprinted past much of the other team's offense but the defense was the tough part. Connie had passed the ball back to Jean, who had been eagerly following Connie. Jean had the ball as he made his way to the goal, but one of the fullbacks--Franz, was it?--was just one _huge_ dude. Jean panicked and shot the ball aimlessly, too scared of losing the ball. But true to his word, Marco didn't even let the ball get close to the net.  
  
    It was all downhill from there.  
  
    The only person ballsy enough to get near the enormous fullbacks was Eren. Connie and Jean worked together with some other teammates to keep the ball off their side but scoring was the actual issue.  
  
    Not to mention their team had probably the worst goalie ever. Jean heard the kid's name was Dazz or something, but he wasn't quite sure. Nor did he particularly care after seeing Dazz's shit job at keeping the ball out of the net.  
  
    All in all, Jean was having a shitty time. He made a total of one goal, but he suspected it was just Marco taking pity on him and letting it slide. Their eyes had briefly locked right before Jean shot the ball and at the last second, Marco looked away, ball flying passed him completely. Yeah, Jean was pretty sure it was on purpose. Which made him feel even worse, to be honest.  
  
    So when the coach blew that goddamn whistle of his, Jean froze where he was and closed his eyes. It was do or die now.  
  
    "Well done, boys. You all played wonderfully. Now take a quick water break while the captain and I make our decision." Erwin's poker face didn't betray the thoughts Jean was sure he was thinking.  
  
    "He's probably cursing every deity out there for the shitty options he has this year," Jean heard one of the upperclassmen state.  
  
    Jean clenched his fist, _That fucking-_  
  
    "Like you assholes played better!" Eren's voice seemed louder than usual due to the sudden headache Jean was sporting.  
  
    "Compared to you little shits, we did." A guy with slicked back hair towered over Eren. Jean recognized him as one of the midfielders. "News flash, first-year, we're already on the team." He pushed against Eren's chest, "Which makes _me_ entitled to say whatever the fuck I want."  
  
    Jean practically saw in slow motion as a vein in Eren's head pulsed at the same moment his fist came up to deck the upperclassman in the nose.  
  
    _The one time Mikasa isn't here. Damn._ Jean bolted towards the two teens and quickly pried Eren off of the upperclassman before he could do any more damage.  
  
    A few teens rang out with astonished voices, causing the coach to turn around.  
  
    "What's going on over there!?"  
  
    "N-Nothing! Someone just slipped on the grass, that's all!" Jean covered for Eren as he saw he saw Connie walk over to the upperclassman.  
  
    He wasn't sure what Connie said, but the upperclassman shut right up and instead held his bloody nose in silence.  
  
    Coach Erwin didn't look convinced but turned back anyway, clearly more preoccupied with the try-out decision.  
  
    Jean sighed, "Jesus fuck, why did I even cover for your ass?" He slumped against the grass, both emotionally and physically exhausted.  
  
    "Because you wanted to punch him just as much as I did," Eren kneeled down next to Jean.  
  
    Jean made a noise of agreement but said nothing.  
  
    "By the way, what the fuck did you even tell that guy to shut him up?" Eren asked Connie.  
  
    The shorter teen shrugged, "Just some good ol' classic blackmail."  
  
    Jean sat up, "You know him?"  
  
    Connie seemed less inclined to answer that question but he did anyway. "Remember how I told you I kissed some dude during that game at Reiner's party?"  
  
    Jean's eyebrows shot up, "No fucking way."  
  
    "Yeah, well, what I _didn't_ tell you was how that asshole wanted to cop a feel _after_ the game but his girlfriend interrupted."  
  
    Eren and Jean shared a look of disbelief.  
  
    "You're fucking kidding me," the green-eyed teen gaped.  
  
    Connie crossed his fingers over his chest, "Swear to god."  
  
    "Gross, dude!"  
  
    "Eh, he was beyond wasted so it was whatever. All I know is that if word got out to his chick that he likes to diddle with some dangles, I doubt he'd make it out alive."  
  
     "That's fucking insane," Jean said incredulously. "How can you even be _remotely_ okay with that?"  
  
    Connie stared at Jean, "I told you already, dude. No one fucking cares who you kiss at a party. Ninety-nine percent of people are wasted anyway so it's not like they'll remember enough to criticize you about it. Trying to cop a feel, though. That's some hardcore shit, man. Especially if you're taken."  
  
    Jean felt his headache worsen. How did Connie even know this stuff? Was there a rule book for high school party etiquette he wasn't aware of? Like seriously, how could anyone be so relaxed about things like that?  
  
    Luckily, Jean didn't spend too much time dwelling on Connie's whole party almost-rendezvous with their future teammate since the coach had asked them to line up.  
  
    "Two spots, bro," Connie whispered next to him.  
  
    "I know."  
  
    Jean glanced over as he saw Marco whispering something to Reiner, just to have the blond shake his head a bit and sigh. Jean felt like his stomach was going to fall out his butt.  
  
    "Before I announce the two starting members, I want to congratulate you all for taking time out of your lives to try-out for my team. You all played with determination and I respect that. But unfortunately, there _are_ only two spots available." Erwin took a breath before continuing. "And I'm glad to announce that the following two players have successfully made it onto the team."  
  
    _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._ Jean felt his vision go blurry from how anxious he felt.  
  
    "Eren Jaeger."  
  
    "Fuck yessss," the teen in question whispered loudly.  
  
    Jean took a deep breath.  
  
    "And Connie Springer."  
  
    The short teen beside Jean felt his mouth drop. "Are you serious!?" He glanced up at Jean, "Dude! I made it!" He went to high-five Jean until it occurred to him that his friend hadn't been called.  
  
    The field was silent with a disappointing aura surrounding the other nine boys.  
  
    _I...didn't make it..._ Jean thought to himself. He glanced at Coach Erwin, angry about his decision, before shifting his eyes towards Reiner, one of the reasons why it was so difficult to score a goal. Finally, Jean's hazel eyes fell upon his freckled friend. His stomach suddenly felt really heavy and his skin really cold.  
  
    He resented Marco. He resented his friend's amazing ability to protect a goal. He resented his optimism, which gave Jean a false sense of hope. He especially resented the fact that Marco was the one who had convinced him to try-out in the first place. He wouldn't have had to suffer through a week's training and this sudden embarrassment if he hadn't been asked to try-out at all.  
  
    Jean was feeling angry and upset and betrayed and the only person he found he could blame it on was Marco.  
  
    He quickly shook his head and felt like slapping himself.  
  
    _Fuck, no, stop it! Don't do this again, Jean. It's no one's fault but your own. Stop shifting the blame on whoever's convenient._ Jean bit the inside of his cheek as his thoughts shifted away from his current situation. _It's not her fault either. He left her again, that's why she's acting up. It's his fault, not hers._  
  
    Jean snapped out of his thoughts when he suddenly heard his name called out by the coach.  
  
    He turned to Connie, "What just happened?"  
  
    "Dude, you made it too!"  
  
    Jean's face twisted in confusion, "What are you talking about? I thought there were only two spots."  
  
    "There are. You made it on the team, though—" Jean slowly smiled but Connie paused and looked up at him with the same face he had right before the practice game. "You made it on as a benchwarmer."  
  
    Jean blinked a few times as the smile slipped off his face. "...What?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it insane how it took me like two weeks to write half of this and like an hour to write the rest. What sleep deprivation can do, huh. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you sooooo much for the wonderful reception this fic has gotten! I'm so thankful omg
> 
> Also, I'll be starting a new jeanmarco, semi-middle school au fic soon. I'll probably have it posted with the next chapter update :D I'll post a link for anyone who's interested.
> 
> Again, thank you very much and feel free to leave messages here or on my tumblr. I'll be posting chapter previews in the fic: poh tag so make sure to check there too!


	4. His Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean didn't always know how to express himself, but because of a certain someone, that might change. 
> 
> Because for once, someone might actually treasure him. Someone who might just be a treasure to him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter!! I didn't mean for it to be a whole month since my last update.
> 
> I've literally been working on this for the whole month, though. I had the idea but the details were just not there :( Not to mention I've been busy with college stuff too...
> 
> Either, thank you SO much for all the wonderful comments and hits I've gotten!
> 
> Also, if anyone's interested, I started a jeanmarco middle school au, so if you're into dweeby preteen Jean, that's the fic to read lol Here it is: [Do You Like or Like-Like Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1249957/chapters/2570779)
> 
> Again, thank you sooooo much for sticking with me so far and I hope you enjoy the next few chapters!

The Monday after try-outs was absolutely dreadful for Jean.  
  
    "Just put a paper bag over my head and never associate with me ever again."  
  
    Connie seemed amused, "I don't understand what the big deal is. You made it, didn't you?"  
  
    Jean rolled his eyes, "Well yeah but I don't actually have a _position_."  
  
    "Just 'cause you're a benchwarmer-"  
  
    "Shhhh!!" Jean covered Connie's mouth with his hand. "Don't let anybody hear you. As far as everyone else is concerned, I'm on the team, that's all that matters."  
  
    The bald teen smacked Jean's hand away and rolled his eyes. "Exactly. So stop being a piss-baby and help me with this stupid worksheet."  
  
    "Whatever, fine." Jean picked up a pencil and tried figuring out the geometry problems that were assigned to them for tomorrow.  
  
    Connie sat back and scrolled through his phone, texting Sasha, who was in her chemistry class.  
  
    " 'Kk, see you next period. Winky face'? Winky face, dude? Seriously?"  
  
    Jean glanced up as Eren read over Connie's shoulder. Connie held his phone close to his chest and frowned.  
  
    "Hey! No sneaking!"  
  
    "Didn't take you for the nosy type, Jaeger," Jean put his pencil down.  
  
    Eren flipped him the finger and dragged a chair over as Mikasa followed suit.  
  
    "Siss said we could pair up."  
  
    Jean snorted, "Pairs means only two people, dipshit. No wonder you're failing this class."  
  
    Eren flipped Jean two fingers this time, "Geometry doesn't mean shit. I just need to pass and in order to do that I need you to fucking cooperate."  
  
    Connie nodded, "Same, yo. Jean is actually pretty good at all this shape stuff."  
  
    Eren's eyes fell on Jean. "Precisely why you need to teach me and Mikasa. Armin's busy with his own trig shit to worry about, so I figured we might as well lay off him for a bit."  
  
    "Aw, bless your soul," the sarcasm was thick in Jean's voice.  
  
    "Shut up. You're practically my bitch anyway, waterboy." Eren looked smug.  
  
    "In your fucking dreams." Jean glanced over at Mikasa and continued talking. “But you know, I _am_ your teammate,” he stressed. “Because I’m on the _soccer team_ now. Since I’m like, pretty good at playing and all.”  
  
    Mikasa looked at Jean with a blank stare in her eye. “Eren told me you only got on as a benchwarmer.”  
  
    _Fuck. Backtrack. Mission failed. Retreatreatreat._  
  
    “I, er…I mean yeah, but not for long.” Jean stammered.  
  
    Eren leaned over, clearly having enough of whatever little conversation Jean and Mikasa were having, and rested his forearms on Jean’s desk. “So are you gonna teach us or what?”  
  
    A deflated Jean avoided eye contact with Mikasa and just shrugged, “Whatever, sure. I don’t care.”  
  
    Most of the period was spent trying to get Connie and Eren to understand the basic concept of locus points. While Mikasa quickly picked up on the topics Jean briefly went over, simply elaborating on what the teacher mentioned in class.  
  
    “So what you’re trying to say is that this fucking point,” Eren jabbed a finger at a dot on his page, “Is the same distance away from the circle as that fucking dot all the way over there?”  
  
    “Yes, that is exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you dumbfucks for the past fifteen minutes.” Jean felt like tearing his hair out.  
  
    “Well that’s fucking retarded,” Eren leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.  
  
    “Yeah, they don’t even look like they’re near each other.” Connie included.  
  
    Jean pinched the bridge of his nose, “They don’t need to look like it. If you just use the formula, that I’ve written down several million times, then it’ll prove that the distance from the circle is exactly the same.”  
  
    The two other boys just stared at him while trying to wrap their heads around the fact that what was on the page was far from what the actual dimensions were. Meanwhile, Jean had Mikasa working on a few other problems that were far more difficult than what he was trying to teach Eren and Connie.  
  
    Mikasa set her pencil down and looked up.  
  
    Eren glanced beside him, “You’re done already?”  
  
    Mikasa nodded, handing her paper to Jean. He bit his lip in pensive thought as he looked over her worksheet.  
  
    “Everything looks good. At least someone got something out of what I taught.” Jean handed Mikasa back her paper and nearly dropped it when their hands touched.  
  
    “Dude, you can’t blame me for not getting it. My whole spatial awareness thing isn’t agreeing with this.” Connie leaned back.  
  
    Jean stared at him incredulously, “You don’t even know what the fuck you just said, did you?”  
  
    “In any case, I just don’t get it. Like, if the dots are supposed to be the same distance, then why is this one all the way over there!?” Eren complained.  
  
    “Fuck this, I’m not explaining it anymore. Focus on the fucking dots, use the fucking formula, and then do the freaking questions. I’m done with you idiots.” Jean pushed out his chair as the bell rung and he silently thank the heavens for this small blessing.  
  
     Connie huffed in frustration and muttered something along the lines of “I’ll just get Sasha to help me” as he stuffed his books into his backpack.  
  
    Jean could practically feel Eren glaring daggers at him from behind but he failed to care as he made his way out the door and towards his locker. Just a quick stop to drop off his books and he’d make his way to the lunchroom. Finally, a chance to vent to Marco about the dumbasses he had to put up with in class.  
  
    He made it to his locker in record time, pushing past upperclassmen who were walking much too nonchalantly in the crowded hallway. Jean quickly turned the dial to his lock and opened it.  
  
    Just as he was unloading his bag, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and held his breath.  
  
    It was Mikasa.  
  
    _Holy son of a- Why is she here? What does she want? Crap, is she gonna tell me off for getting aggravated with Eren? Damn it, I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut._  
  
    “I…wanted to thank you for teaching me today.”  
  
    Jean felt extremely confused at that moment, “Um…what?”  
  
    Mikasa brought her scarf up to bury her nose in it, “I know Eren isn’t the most…agreeable person to deal with but you tried teaching him and I, uh, thanks. I’ll be able to teach him with what you taught me.”  
  
    It felt as if Jean’s brain had just exploded and he couldn’t comprehend was exactly was happening at that moment. All he could do was gape like a fish at the girl he had the biggest fucking crush on.  
  
    The black-haired teen nodded her head once and quickly turned on her heel before heading into the direction of the cafeteria.  
  
    “Y-You’re welcome!” Jean called out belatedly.  
  
    He closed his locker and leaned against it.  
  
    _Was that…even real_?  


* * *

  
    "And then she was like 'Thank you so much, Jean. You're so smart and nice for teaching me.' Legit, dude. She just like came up to me and complimented and thanked me. Holy shit man, I still can't believe it was real." Jean rested his cheek on his hand. "Unbelievable."  
  
    Marco looked at Jean with an amused and dubious look on his face, "I'll say."  
  
    "I'm telling the truth! It was just some good karma for being a Good Samaritan and helping out the poor stupid fucks that I have to call my teammates."  
  
    "Just admit you see them as friends, Jean. It'll be less painful."  
  
    Jean furrowed his eyebrows and gaped, "I- what? Okay, Connie is totally a maybe. When he's not too busy texting his not-girlfriend and dicking around sometimes, yeah, he's cool. All right, probably a friend. But _Jaeger_ , hell no!"  
  
    "Not even to get in good graces with his sister?"  
  
    "...His sister?"  
  
    Marco's mouth opened slightly before closing it again. "Oh...shoot, I forgot." He bit his lip.  
  
    "Forgot what? What am I missing?"  
  
    Marco looked up from the Italian homework he had been working on and sighed. "Jean...why do you think Mikasa is so attached to Eren?"  
  
    Jean was silent for a few moments before replying. "Because they're...involved?" Marco moved his hands, urging Jean to continue. "Involved as in...together?"  
  
    The older teen made a buzzer sound, "Eh, you're wrong. Try again."  
  
    "Just tell me. Obviously I don't know so just spit it out."  
  
    "Okay...well, you know how I have a few classes with Armin, right? Yeah, so I was curious as to whether or not you and Mikasa could ever..." Marco blushed. "I was trying to be a good friend, don't laugh! Well so I asked and basically, he said Eren and Mikasa are part of a foster family."  
  
    Jean's eyebrows shot up, "Whoa, what?"  
  
    Marco twiddled his thumbs around nervously, "I don't know the details but Armin said they're like family. They only have each other. It's not romantic but they do share an emotional connection."  
  
    A few moments passed by in slight silence, neither party sure on what to say. Jean's brain attempted to process the information while Marco avoided Jean's eyes, thought he's not entirely sure why.  
  
    "Why? I mean, how? But why, too. Like, fuck, that's kinda serious..."  
  
    "Yeah...I know. But at least you know now. You've...actually got a chance."  
  
    Jean blinked a few times before Marco's words registered in his brain.  
  
    "Marco Antonio Bodt, are you trying to tell me you asked Armin about Mikasa's availability level just so I'd know if I've got a _shot_ at dating her?"  
  
    Marco shrugged, "Well, yeah. Isn't that what friends do?"  
  
    Jean sat there stunned before wrapping and arm around Marco's neck and ruffling his hair. "Who would've thought Marco Bodt was the ideal wingman. Fucking incredible."  
  
    The older teen smiled wide as his hair was disheveled.  
  
    "I take it that was the right thing to do?"  
  
    Jean let out one of the biggest laughs he would ever have. "Yeah, you did all right, bro."  
  
     The pair of giggly idiots laughed throughout most of the lunch period, earning them stares from other tables.  
  
      _Damn, what did I do to deserve this guy?_ Jean thought.  
  
    It really was nice to have a friend, he felt. Best thing to happen to him in fifteen years.  


* * *

  
    "All right, ya noobs, this is your first official practice. Our first game is in two weeks," Reiner heard a series of groans coming from the group of players. "Yes, _two_ weeks. That means we have two weeks to whip your fat asses into shape. Lord fucking knows you haven't done any conditioning this past summer. So we're going all out these next few days. Understood?"  
  
    "Yes, Captain." The boys said in unison.  
  
    Reiner grinned, "Sweet. Time to show the coach what we're made of. Ten laps around the field!"  
  
    Jean could practically feel Coach Erwin watching him and the other new recruits from his position on the side of the field. It was his time to shine but Jean couldn't shake the feeling that the coach was more preoccupied with how the starting players were doing.  
  
    Marco jogged up next to Jean and kept up as they ran laps.  
  
    "He's watching everyone," Marco huffed.  
  
    "Doubt it. I'm not important until someone breaks their leg."  
  
    The elder teen frowned, "Your crops won't grow with that attitude."  
  
    Jean kept his eyebrows furrowed, "So what? I'm just being realistic. I know my purpose, I've accepted it. No shame in admitting it."  
  
    "There is when you're wrong," Marco pursed his lips and looked away.  
  
    Jean nearly stumbled over his own feet in surprise.  
  
    _Did he just sass me?_  
  
    The two continued to jog in silence. They remained beside each other but it was clear the air was tense between them. Neither teen knew exactly why, but it felt as if they had just had a fight of some sort.  
  
    After ten laps around the field, Reiner announced that the boys would split into groups. One group would work on z-turns while the other would focus on body part control. Most of the regular players were separated into the first category, leaving the new recruits to work on body control.  
  
    This meant Jean and Marco would be split up. Not necessarily that they were adverse to the idea, what with the tense air between them and all, but they weren't really keen on the fact that they'd part before resolving their "fight", or whatever it was.  
  
    Either way, they parted ways and headed to different sides of the field. Reiner paired everyone on Jean's side up. And it was just Jean's luck that his partner ended up being Eren, the _last_ person he wanted to deal with at the moment.  
  
    "This is stupid." Jean said offhandedly. "It's not like it matters for me to go all out. I won't be put in a game unless someone gets hurt so what's the point?"  
  
    "If this is so stupid then why the fuck are you even here? If you're going to complain then I guess benchwarmer was too good a position for you." Eren narrowed his eyes. "If you don't want to be on the team, then just /leave/. No one wants your half-assed effort anyway."  
  
    Jean clenched his jaw and felt like punching Eren. For once it wasn't because he annoyed him, but because Jean knew Eren was right.  
  
    "F-Fine, whatever. Just toss the ball, will you?"  
  
    Eren seemed reluctant to let the subject go, but kicked the ball towards Jean anyway. The goal of their drill was to control the ball with specific parts of their bodies: legs, chest, and head.  
  
    Jean's ball control was mediocre at best, having just learned it a few days prior but his legs proved to be his strong point. So as he and Eren kicked the ball back and forth, he reinforced what little control he had.  
  
    Using his chest was more of a problem for Jean.  
  
    "Dude, how the hell do you even-?"  
  
    Eren didn't even grace him with an answer as he stopped the ball with his chest and began balancing it on his knees.  
  
    "Easy as pie, Kirschtein. Can't do this, you're done." Eren smirked.  
  
    The taller teen glared, "Whatever. Just skip it for now."  
  
    Eren shrugged as he dropped the ball to the ground. He kicked it between his own feet before getting ready to kick it.  
  
    At that moment, Jean glanced to the side of the field where Coach Erwin was standing. He literally had just stood there just /watching/ them practice. He hadn't uttered a word and most likely wouldn't. At least Jean didn't think he would until he saw a familiar brunet next to the coach. Their lips were barely even moving, but the more Jean focused, the more he realized how well into the conversation the two men were.  
  
    _Is that Levi?_ Jean's face contorted in confusion. Why would his French teacher be at his soccer practice?  
  
    Unfortunately, he didn't have enough time to think the whole situation out when he suddenly turned his head back to face Eren. At that precise moment, the ball hit in square in the face.  
  
    Jean didn't feel anything except shock at first, but then he felt shooting pain coming from the bridge of his nose.  
  
    Eren saw the blood before Jean even felt it dripping out. Clearly he was still too busy focusing on the intense pain he was in.  
  
    "Fuck!" A shuffle of feet could be heard from across Jean as he held his nose. He heard Eren call out something, probably trying to get someone's attention.  
  
    The next thing Jean knew, he was surrounded by Reiner, Eren, Connie, and some other members of the soccer team.  
  
    "Jean! Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Jean could tell that was Marco's voice.  
  
    _Heh, guess he's not mad at me anymore..._  
  
    The two-toned teen felt his arm being grabbed and put around Marco's shoulder.  
  
    "Come on, big guy. Lean on me. We have to get you to the nurse's office." Marco wrapped his arm around Jean's waist.  
  
    Jean tasted the blood that had dropped down to his mouth. "My nose is probably broken. Not my leg. I'm good." He said despite feeling like his nose was on fire.  
  
    Marco hesitated but he let go slightly so Jean could walk on his own. Just as he predicted, Jean began to wobble and felt everything go hazy.  
  
    The freckled teen shot his arm out and caught Jean before he fell. "See? You're far from fine. You probably have a slight concussion."  
  
    "Thanks Doctor Bodt." Jean laughed slightly but instantly regretted it when the pain intensified. "Fuckfuckfuck."  
  
    Marco helped Jean off the field and passed Coach Erwin and Levi. Jean swore Levi made some comment about Jean’s blood getting all over the place but he wasn’t too sure since Marco was intent on keeping him conscious by talking to him.

 

   “Are you blacking out or anything? I need to know, just incase I have to carry you on my back and run to the nurse.”

 

   Jean fought the urge to roll his eyes, “Dude, it’s not that serious. So my nose might be broken and I _maybe_ have a concussion. It’s not that bad.”

 

   Marco nearly stumbled over his own feet at his friend’s comment, “Wait, are you serious right now?” Jean’s brain couldn’t catch up to what the freckled teen was referring to so he just blinked in confusion. “You’re honestly saying that a bloody nose and a brain injury is ‘no big deal’?”

 

    The younger teen opened his mouth to answer but was thrown off when Marco suddenly stopped and squatted right in front of him.

 

   “Whoa, what the—”

 

   “Get on my back,” Marco said as he grabbed Jean’s hands and lead them to his shoulders.

 

   Jean hesitated and gave him a look that translated to “are you fucking with me?”

 

   Marco’s light brown eyes suddenly seemed darker as he narrowed them and furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m not asking, Jean.”

 

   The tone in the elder teen’s voice was incredibly authoritative and his facial expression was like nothing Jean had ever seen before. For once, Marco actually looked…angry. Needless to say, he didn’t need to ask again because Jean obediently gripped onto Marco’s shoulders and brought his legs to either side of his waist.

 

   “Ready?” Jean nodded and with that, Marco stood up slowly. He held onto Jean’s thighs, making sure they didn’t move.

 

   Once Marco began walking, it was evident he was getting used to Jean’s weight first. Jean felt slightly self-conscious suddenly. He knew he was by no means light. He had to be at least a few pounds lighter than Marco, who was as toned as he looked. So Jean _knew_ he had to be weighing Marco down somewhat. But all that went out the door when Marco picked up his pace and began speed walking so fast Jean felt he might as well be jogging.

 

   _Holy shit!_ Jean tightened his hold around Marco’s neck vehemently praying he didn’t get dropped.

 

   “I know I’m not the lightest kid around but if you drop me, I swear to God—”

 

   The tension on Marco’s face eased up and he smiled slightly, “Don’t worry, I won’t drop you. I give my little brother piggyback rides all the time.”

 

   “No offense but isn’t he like eight or something?”

 

   “You’d be surprised how heavy eight-year-old Italian kids are. All that pasta’s gotta go somewhere.” Marco tried not to laugh but he did anyway.

 

   Jean felt the vibrations from Marco’s laughter and found it oddly soothing. He pressed closer and leaned his head against Marco’s shoulder.

 

   “You were right.”

 

   “About what?”

 

   Jean took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts and instead smelled the familiar scent of cinnamon and basil mixed with a hint of sweat. He briefly wondered if he himself smelled as good as his friend did. Jean doubted it since he was currently drenching in sweat and blood.

 

   “Eren called me out. I told him there was no point in working so hard if I wasn’t going to be playing a real game any time soon. So he told me to quit the team since I was being so half-assed about everything and it just…it pissed me off. But he was right, and I hated it.” Jean bit his lip nervously. “But you were right too. So…sorry for…fighting, I guess.”

 

   Jean buried his face in his friend’s shirt, momentarily forgetting that he might get blood on it, and hid it in embarrassment. He still wasn’t used to blatantly talking about his feelings with a real, live person but it felt…nice to get it off his chest. Speaking of which, Marco’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of his. Jean related it to Marco overworking himself, trying to walk fast while having a full-grown teenager on his back.

 

   “I-I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just…I hate it when people are negative about themselves. I just want them to see how amazing they are and to stop putting themselves down and…you’re my really good friend, Jean. You’re better than you think. Just because you didn’t make the team as a starter doesn’t mean you’re any less of a player. You just have to showcase your talents and practice harder. You’ll be a starter soon, I just know it.”

 

   Jean hadn’t even realized when the two had entered the building, but they were now right down the hall from the nurse’s office. “We’re here,” Marco added as he readjusted his grip on Jean.

 

   “Yeah…”

 

   _Come on, Jean, say something!_

   “T-Thanks, Marco.” He mumbled into the nape of the elder teen’s neck. “Thanks for being my friend.”

 

   Marco paused outside the office door and smiled softly, “Thanks for being mine, Jean.”

 

   With that, both teens entered the room with the silent recognition that Jean might forget what happened. But even if Jean’s memory ended up a bit hazy, both boys knew where they stood with each other. No misunderstandings, no tension, nothing to worry about. It was just Jean and his treasured friend Marco. That’s all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tracking the fic: poh tag on tumblr so feel free to post anything there at any time :D


	5. Trost Sports Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean had high expectations for his first soccer game. Keyword there is HAD.
> 
> He knew he wasn't going to do much, what with being a benchwarmer and all. But that's not going to stop him from trying.
> 
> At least Freckles acknowledges him, whether Jean knows it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the last update guys ;A; I swear I've been working on this for the past 2 weeks.  
> Thankfully, I updated just in time for Jean' birthday ^.^
> 
> ALSO, there is some [AMAZINGGG fanart](http://mementoreimori.tumblr.com/post/78223276312/jellyphish-sempai-i-was-reading-where-your) on tumblr of chapter 1 and I suggest y'all check it out :3

   Jean was legitimately about to shit his heart out his ass. Nothing could calm down the tense nerves throughout his body.

  
  
    A freckled hand rested on his shoulder and rubbed a stress knot there. "Breathe, Jean. Don't get yourself worked up. If you get called in, just do as you practiced."

  
  
    "That's the thing though. I _could_ play if Coach really wanted me to. But I have absolutely no way of knowing."

  
  
    The edge of Marco's mouth scrunched to the side and motioned to say something but Coach Erwin blew his whistle, signaling for the starters to line up.

  
    Marco got up from the bench. "Well...that's my cue."

  
  
    "Yeah, good luck out there," Jean bumped fists with his freckled friend.

  
  
    "Thanks, see you soon."

  
  
    "Hope I don't. Get hurt and I'll kick your ass," Jean smirked, which earned him one back from Marco.

  
  
    Even though he knew he wasn't going to play, Jean felt his hands become clammy and his knees began to shake.

  
  
    _What the fuck is even wrong with me? Jesus Christ, calm down._

  
  
    Jean forced his heart to calm down as the game began. Reiner managed to get the ball first, thus giving their team a good start. The first half of the game went pretty smoothly. It was only the beginning of the season so they were up against Karanes High School of the Performing Arts, a small public school from the next town over. They were known for their wide range of talent in the theatre and band, so it was a given that their sports team was less than desirable.  
  
  
    That much was obvious from the game. It was either that or Trost's soccer team was better than Jean thought. Probably both, he decided. Reiner's position as center forward was clearly the place for him. His plays as an offensive player were phenomenal.

  
  
    _No wonder he's Captain._

  
  
    Despite his effort not to, Jean's eyes couldn't help but shift towards his competition: Eren fucking Jaeger. Even though it pained him to admit it, Jean _knew_ Eren was an excellent player. Clearly all those years playing paid off. He was only a first-year and yet he was not only a starting player but also a right forward, one of the best positions to play.  
  
    Jean clenched his fists in envy. It wasn't fair, he initially thought. But then the fifteen-year-old reasoned that it was to be expected. He'd only learned how to play not even a month ago. Not only that, but most of the time he didn't know what he was doing. He usually played as offense during practice, but he knew he was shit at it. He could never play a position like Eren's, much less excel at it.  
  
    Once the second half began, it was clear Trost was going to win so Jean's interest in the game diminished. His eyes wandered to the crowd sitting behind him on the bleachers. His light hazel eyes shifted from the edge of the bleachers, where the marching band was seated to the group of students sitting in the first few rows.  
  
    Jean recognized a familiar mop of blond hair and quickly checked to see if the object of his affections was nearby. True to his hypothesis, Mikasa was sitting right next to Armin. It _was_ Eren's first game of the season, after all. Jean knew those two would follow Eren wherever he went, which pissed Jean off to no end.  
  
    His gaze lingered on Mikasa for longer than he anticipated, so when her eyes shifted and ended up meeting his, Jean felt his face suddenly grow warm. He didn't know what else to do but wave and smile slightly, which Mikasa didn't return. Instead, her eyes motioned back to Eren and she continued watching the game.

  
    Jean put his hand down and frowned, _She probably didn't see me...yeah, she's just distracted, is all._

 __  
  
A waving hand caught his attention from the corner of his eye, so Jean turned to look at Armin.

  
  
    _I wasn't waving at you, dork nozzle,_ Jean thought, but waved back nonetheless.

  
  
    Jean spent the next few minutes scanning the crowd and noticed a couple of teachers sitting on the bleachers. His French teacher was one of them. Jean didn't peg Levi as the type to be interested in sports, but then again, Jean didn't exactly spend time wondering what his teacher did in his free time.  
  
    So his eyes finally wandered over to the cheerleaders jumping around and shaking their pompoms right in front of the bleachers, just a few feet from where Jean was sitting. Sasha was yelling pretty loudly, screaming out Connie and Marco's names. Jean had actually forgotten she was a cheerleader. Considering how much food the girl ate, Jean wondered how she could maintain her shape.  
  
    A few other girls seemed familiar. The tiny blonde girl at the top of the pyramid, Jean noticed, was the same girl Reiner's freckled lady friend had made out with during the party. And the first chick Marco had kissed appeared at the bottom of the same pyramid.

  
    _Well whaddya know, Marco's kissed a cheerleader babe. Incredible._ Jean wasn't sure if it was jealousy or pride for his friend he was feeling at he moment.

  
    Jean's attention moved back to the game and at that point, his team was just killing the clock. Trost was leading by 5 points, which was a big gap for a soccer game. Before Jean knew it, the whistle blew and the game ended. The starting players all ran towards each other and celebrated. Meanwhile, the benchwarmers awkwardly stood up but didn't feel part of the celebration.  
  
    Or at least, that's how Jean felt.  
  
    It was his first game and yet he didn't play any of it. He felt slightly grateful, since he knew he would've probably fucked up big time anyway. However, another part of him was angry and resentful that Coach Erwin hadn't at least given him a _chance_.  
  
    Jean snapped out of his thoughts and wasted no time in heading for the locker room. He was the first one there and the first one out. He grabbed his bag filled with all his soccer equipment, changed out of his cleats, and left the locker room. Jean ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, and rounded the corner towards the exit. He was so focused on escaping the confines of the locker room that he didn't have time to maneuver around the sweaty body by the door.  
  
    "Shit!" He yelled out as he steadied himself and tried not to fall down the stairs.

  
    "Oh, Jean! Sorry, I didn't know you were down here. I noticed you weren't on the bench so I wondered if maybe you had left..." Marco rubbed the back of his wrist on his forehead, brushing the droplets of sweat away.

  
    "Yeah well, I have somewhere to be." Jean pushed past Marco and opened the exit door. "Have fun celebrating with everyone. You deserve it. You were amazing out there."

  
    Marco smiled, "Thank you, Jean." He motioned to say more but Jean quickly left the locker room, thus leaving him alone in the empty staircase.

  
    Jean leaned against the other side of the door and grimaced.

  
  
    _Fuck!_ He clenched his fist. _I'm such a shitty friend. I can't even pretend to be happy for him. Damn it!_

  
  
    Jean heard a few boisterous voices coming from around the corner so he took that as his cue to leave. He slung his sports bag over his shoulder and made off in a sprint.  


* * *

  
    The next few days after the game were mildly eventful. Reiner had a party, as usual. Eren was granted bragging rights for the whole week for scoring multiple goals during the game and Connie was awarded an abundance of junk food courtesy of Sasha, which was also not much of a shock. The only surprise was that Jean hadn’t wanted to go to Reiner’s party, hadn’t picked a bone with Eren for his constant bragging, and hadn’t even tried to tease Connie about his vague relationship with Sasha. Marco was worried at first, he thought maybe Jean was too depressed over not having been part of the game but over the course of a few days, Marco realized that wasn’t entirely it.

 

   On a number of occasions, Marco asked Jean if he wanted to hang out after practice. To which Jean said “no” and wandered off to some unknown destination. It wasn’t until the Friday after their first game that Marco decided to follow Jean to wherever the first-year went.

    Marco would be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious.

 

   _What if Jean got into some trouble?_ He thought. _What if he’s being badgered by some upperclassmen?_

 

   Since he was obviously expecting the worst, it came as surprise when he followed Jean to the nearest grocery store, saw him buy a Gatorade and some chips, leave, and then took the long way back to school. By that time, it was a good forty-five minutes after practice ended and no one was around.

 

   _What is he doing?_

 

   Marco hid behind the bleachers as he watched Jean slip his cleats on, grabbed a ball, and tossed his bag onto the ground. The freckled teen’s eyebrows knitted as he watched Jean begin to kick around the ball and run towards the net.

 

   “Is he… _practicing_?” Marco couldn’t contain his thoughts. His mouth gaped opened and a slight smile began to form. “Oh my god.”

 

   Despite Jean’s seemingly nonchalant attitude, Marco knew Jean was a hard worker when it came down to it. However, it wasn’t the fact that he was practicing even _more_  after soccer practice, but rather it was the _position_  Jean was working on. During regular practice, the coach had Jean work on forward plays and he usually paired Jean up with Thomas to have them both improve their offensive skills, respectively. It was also common knowledge that Jean’s offensive capability with a ball was shaky at best.

   So when Marco saw Jean trying to practice playing defensively all by himself, well, it tugged at his heartstrings, to say the least. Jean seemed to be trying to hard to kick the ball at the goal post and have it sent back to him, trying to block it with all he had. A couple of times the ball flew too high and hit him in the head. But no matter what, Jean just got back up and tried again.

 

    Marco shook his head, _That stupid idiot_.

 

   He took out his phone and switched it to video mode. He clicked the big red button on his screen and promptly began to record the scene in front of him. 

 

   _[Sciocco](http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/sciocco), you work about a million times harder when you think no one’s looking, _ Marco mused with endearment _._ His eyes trained on the screen of his phone. _You deserve more than that._

* * *

 

   "Kirschtein! Wagner!" Reiner called out.

  
  
    Jean huffed breathlessly, "Y-Yeah, Captain?"

  
  
    Reiner walked over to the two with his hands on his waist. He looked at them with a contemplative look on his face before smirking as if he knew a secret no one else did.

  
  
    "Time for a partner switch."

  
  
    "What-?" Before Jean could finish his sentence, Reiner took Thomas' place opposite Jean and readied his stance.

  
  
    A few feet away, by the net, Marco held a hand up to stop Eren from kicking the ball as he glanced over at Jean with an expectant look on his face.  
  
    "What happened?" Eren asked.

  
  
    "Shh," Marco put a finger on his lips as he tried to listen in on Reiner's conversation with Jean. "Oh my god, is he really going to-?"

  
  
    "Uh...Captain?" Jean looked at Reiner quizzically.

  
  
    "One on one, you and me, right now," was all Reiner said before he quickly kicked the ball between Jean's legs and ran around him.  
  
   

    Jean was stunned, _Is this really happening right now? What the fuck..._

 

   The fifteen-year-old turned around and began to follow Reiner’s lead. He attempted to steal the ball from between Reiner’s feet.

 

   “Can’t stop a shot from behind me, first-year.”

 

   This made Jean hesitate for half a second before realizing what Reiner was expecting of him.

 

   “I don’t play defense, Reiner.”

 

   “You do now,” the built blond grinned. “Get ready for a shot, Marco!”

 

   Jean’s eyes narrowed as the teens neared the net. He quickly used all his strength to sprint past Reiner and stood in front of him. He saw his captain run towards him, not even trying to maneuver around. Reiner was literally just going to ram past him, as was usual of his gameplay.

 

   Jean slightly prayed to every deity in existence that he didn’t end up breaking something. Without a second thought, Jean zigzagged his way towards Reiner and attempted to block Reiner’s path to the net.

 

   _Shit, this would be a hell of a lot easier if the other guys were around to protect the freaking goal!_

 

   Jean’s eyes scanned the area around him and he recognized a familiar loud-mouthed forward standing to his left.

 

   _Not exactly, but I’ll take it._

 

   The two-toned haired teen suddenly centered in on the ball and just before Reiner attempted to kick, Jean aimed the ball towards Eren.

 

   “To the net, Jaeger!”

 

   Eren seemed stunned and hesitated at first before securing his hold on the ball and running towards the net on the opposite side of the field.

 

   Reiner stared blankly at Jean in disbelief but soon began to sprint towards Eren, who was already halfway across the field.

 

   Before Jean knew it, Eren made his way to the ne. It was the fastest Jean had ever seen Eren run, but he thanked God Eren did. The green-eyed teen stopped a few feet from the net and wasted no time in shooting into it. The only players near the net were frozen into silence, they had no idea what was going on. But the second the ball hit the back of the net, a series of cheers traveled across the field.

 

   Jean closed his eyes and threw his head back as he let out his own roar of victory. He stumbled a bit as a firm body nearly tackled him to the ground.

 

   “You did it, Jean!” Marco said ecstatically.

 

   “I didn’t really do anything. Eren made the shot.” Jean’s ears reddened.

 

   “But you were the one who blocked Reiner’s shot and passed the ball to Eren.” Marco’s hand rested on Jean’s shoulder, which caused goosebumps to appear on Jean’s forearms.

 

   A few other players who had been watching the mini-game intently jogged over to congratulate Jean. He hadn’t even realized how many people were watching.

 

   “Nice pass, first-year!”

 

   “Solid defense, Kirschtein!”

 

   “Not bad for a benchwarmer.”

 

   Jean was surrounded by his teammates when Coach Erwin suddenly appeared in front of Jean. The fifteen-year-old felt his heartbeat speed up in anxiety.

 

   “Not exactly playing offense anymore, huh, Mister Kirschtein?”

 

   Jean gulped, “Uh, no, sir, it was just for today. I’ll get back to practice. Sorry—”

 

   “Don’t be. I want you practicing with Eren from now on.”

 

   “S-Sir?”

 

   “Erwin drew back his lips into a charming smile, “I want you on defense. Do you need someone to teach you the basics?”

 

   “No! I mean, uh, no sir. I’m good. I’ve helped Thomas practice enough times to have learned some of his plays.”

 

   “Good,” Erwin nodded. “I look forward to seeing more of you on the field soon.”

 

   Jean gaped, “Sure, yes, of course Coach!”

 

   Erwin nodded once more, turned on his heel and walked off the field.

 

   “Did he just imply…?” Jean said incredulously.

 

   “Yep,” Marco replied.

 

   “Holy shit.”

 

* * *

 

   The day after what Jean would refer to as “that one time I played Reiner” was like living another life.

 

   “It’s like I’ve been born again. I actually have a chance now.” Jean grinned widely.

 

   Marco rested his cheek on his open palm, “So should October twenty-fourth be your new birthday?”

 

   Jean grimaced, “Ew, October’s an awkward month. Not to mention that’d make me younger than I am and I ain’t all about that.”

 

   The older teen’s eyes widened, “When’s your birthday?”

 

   “Hm? Oh, it’s April seventh. You?”

 

   “June sixteenth, right before school ends.”

 

   Jean seemed to nod in approval, “Spring babies, yo.”

 

   Marco laughed into palm before shifting his eyes upward, looking to a figure behind Jean. “Hi, Reiner.”

 

   “ ‘Sup, Freckles.” Reiner wrapped a muscular arm around Jean’s shoulders. “I was just wondering if you strapping young boys would like to come sit with the ‘cool kids’ over there.” Reiner pointed a finger at the table the whole soccer team usually sat at during lunch.

 

   Jean cringed, “We will if you promise to never _ever_ speak like that again.”

 

   Reiner smirked, “Deal. See you in a bit.”

 

   As the soccer captain walked away, Jean adjusted his hoodie collar and leaned forward.

 

   “So…you’re going to sit with the team?” Marco asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

 

   Jean shrugged, “I will if you will.”

 

   “Oh.”

 

   Jean licked his lips and briefly hesitated before finally speaking his mind, “How come you don’t sit with the other guys? I mean…unlike me, you’re pretty much a full-fledged player. So, you _should_ be sitting with them.”

 

   Marco shifted slightly in his seat, “I used to. Sit with them, I mean. But I just sort of liked hanging around you more.” Marco rubbed his index finger along the underside of his nose. “I’d rather sit with you than with the team.”

 

   Jean could practically feel his whole face heat up. His mouth opened and closed a few times, not knowing what words to formulate.

 

   _Come on, Jean, say something! He’s gonna think you’re weirded out. Fuck, say thanks at least!_

   “Uh…I, um…”

 

   Marco suddenly stood up from his seat, “Come on, let’s go sit with the guys. It’ll give you more time to bond with them and hey, they might even give you some pointers.”

 

   Jean noticed the obviously fake smiled Marco sported and suddenly he felt like an asshole.

 

   Nevertheless, Jean followed the second-year to what Jean deemed as the “jock table” and sat next to his freckled friend, which also just so happened to be next to Eren.

 

   “You gotta be kidding me,” Eren groaned.

 

   Jean frowned, “Whoa, hey, I thought we were cool for once. I thought we had a _moment_.” He teased.

 

   “Fuck outta here, homo. I only played along. Allies on the field, enemies in the classroom and all that jazz.”

 

   “We’re in the lunchroom, Eren.”

 

   Eren flipped Jean off as he stuffed his face with whatever odd concoction the lunch ladies had served for lunch. Every time Eren lifted his spoon to his mouth, his elbow would jab into Jean’s ribs. And after one too many jabs, Jean was sure about to punch the shorter teen square in the face.

 

   “Okay, what the hell!? Got a problem, Jaeger?”

 

   “Not my fault your fat ass leaves me no room to move.”

 

   Marco held onto Jean’s forearm, clearly predicting Jean’s murderous intent.

 

   A familiar blond stood up from next to Eren and shoved himself between the two volatile teens.

 

   “The high levels of testosterone at this table are _clearly_ affecting your moods. Time to break it up,” Armin said as he stuffed his backpack towards Eren, keeping him a safe distance away from Jean.

 

   Once Jean unclenched his fist and stopped grinding his teeth together, he calmed down and focused on having a decent conversation with his classmate.

 

   “Haven’t seen you around lunch in a while.”

 

   “Hm? Oh, well, I usually head up to the library to study but I figured last minute cramming does more harm than good, so I decided to come down to eat for once,” Armin said as he tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear.

 

   _What a nerd rocket, Jesus,_

   “So I heard practice is going pretty well for you.”

 

   “After yesterday? Hell yeah. Rather kick a ball around than conjugate French verbs,” Jean’s eyes widened. “Fuck, that reminds me. You know I’ve seen Levi at soccer practice. It’s creepy as fuck.”

 

   Marco leaned over, “Well, he’s good friends with Coach Erwin. He usually visits when he’s not busy with kickboxing practice.”

 

   “Kickboxing practice?” Jean’s voice went up a few octaves. He suddenly imagined his tiny French teacher in a wife-beater and a pair of sweats, jumping from side to side as he dealt heavy hits.

 

   “Yes, he coaches the girls’ kickboxing team,” Armin added.

 

   Jean snorted, “ _Girls’_ boxing? Pfft, I bet those chicks are all brolic and he-manish and shit. They’re probably manlier than that short fuck.”

 

   The teen hadn’t noticed the object of his wet dreams was sitting next to Eren, which was three seats down from Jean himself. Both Armin and Eren leaned back, allowing Mikasa to turn and make eye contact with Jean.

 

   “ _I’m_ on the kickboxing team,” she said as her dark eyes stared into his honey gold ones.

 

   Jean’s stomach dropped.

 

   _Foot in the mouth, Kirschtein. Foot in the fucking mouth. You always manage to fuck it up, don’t you?_

 

   Luckily, Reiner’s baritone voice announced a sudden change of topic.

 

   “Okay, since you’re all here, save for a few guys, I just want to go over the plans the coach and I have for the next few weeks. But before then,” Reiner got off his chair and climbed onto the lunch table. “HALLOWEEN PARTY AT MY HOUSE ON THURSDAY!” A series of howls resonated throughout the cafeteria. Reiner grinned from ear to ear for a few moments before sitting back down. “Okay, now that that’s out of the way, time to get down to business.”

 

   Jean quirked an eyebrow and smirked in disbelief.

 

   _This fucking guy…_

   “All right, so you all may be wondering just who we’re playing next and I’ll have you know…drum roll please.” Reiner continued as Ymir, Connie, and a few others began banging on the table. “We’re up aainst Jinae Tech next week.”

 

   Some guys booed while Jean glanced around him trying to understand why no one exactly liked the supposed “specialized high school” a few towns over.

 

   Marco leaned over and whispered, “That’s where I was supposed to go.”

 

   Jean’s eyebrows shot up, “You passed the entrance exam?”

 

   The freckled teen nodded, “Yeah, but then I realized I’m not exactly into robotics or taking three years of mandatory German.”

 

   “Wuss.”

 

   Marco elbowed the teen, “No shame in admitting I’d rather take it easy in a class I already know the language for than struggle learning a new one.”

 

   The two laughed to themselves until they heard Nack speak up.

 

   “Jinae isn’t good for shit. Everyone thinks they’re all mad smart when in actuality they’re just potheads who are good at math.”

 

   A few voices chimed in agreement.

 

   Millius scoffed, “You’re just discriminating against it ‘cause you were too stupid to get in.”

 

   “Oooooooh.”

 

   “No, it’s ‘cause Tech is just another shitty public school like Shiganshina,” Nack countered.

 

   Eren stood up and slammed his hands on the table, “Shiganshina isn’t a bad school!”

 

   “Yeah, well ain’t nothing special about them except their high drop-out rate.”

 

   “Armin told me Eren’s parents went to Shiganshina. They supposedly met there and were high school sweethearts,” Marco whispered into Jean’s ear.

 

   “You talk an awful lot with mister-honor-student, huh?”

 

   “We have more than four classes together. Gives us plenty of time to gossip,” Marco joked.

 

   Both teens turned back to the argument their teammates were having.

 

   “Doesn’t change the fact that Jinae and Shiganshina are ratty-ass public schools,” Nack refused to let it go.

 

   Jean was genuinely confused at this point. “Dude, Trost is _barely_ a posh private school. We’re no Stohess Prep, bro.”

 

   “Well, it _is_ one of the better schools in the area. In fact, it ranks second only to Sina Military Academt,” Armin interjected. “Since it’s a combination of a charter school and a private chool, the tuition is affordable for most while still maintaining a selective pool of applicants. Most who get in are well off, but there are a handful who get in because of merit and sports scholarships.”

 

   Jean vaguely remembered Marco mentioned he and Reiner were both there on sports scholarships, but he wondered about the others.

 

   “Mikasa, Eren, and I are here on merit scholarships, in fact,” Armin concluded.

 

   Jean nearly chocked on his own saliva, “Eren’s on an _academic_ scholarship?”

 

   “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean!?” Eren called out.

 

   Armin pushed his friend back and forced him to sit back down. “Kind of. He worked hard to get a partial scholarship but because of…personal circumstances the school offered financial aid for him and Mikasa.”

 

   _Marco was right. He’s quite the chatterbox._ But Jean couldn’t shake the fact that he knew exactly what circumstances Armin was referring to. _So they really are orphans. Holy shit._

   The loud obnoxious school bell suddenly rang and the entire table began to stand up from their seats.

 

   “Ready for the biology test?” Armin asked Jean.

 

   “What test?”

 

   A sympathetic look rested on Armin’s face, “Good luck then.” He shook his head and made his way out the double doors.

 

   Jean just stared at him as he walked away, trying to figure out what the blond teen was referring to. That’s when it hit him.

 

   “FUCK ME!” He yelled out instantaneously.

 

   Marco bit his lip, trying not to laugh at his friend’s dilemma. “ATP is always the answer, trust me.”

 

   “I don’t even know what the hell that is.” Jean felt like slamming his face into the table.

 

   Marco just shook his head and slapped a hand onto Jean’s back. “Well then just be glad you’re not on a merit scholarship.”

 

   Jean groaned before shoving his face into the collar of his hoodie.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this wasn't a filler!! Everything mentioned in this chapter is actually VITAL for later chapters and the plot in general. Even though most of it seemed like rambling.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter because next chapter is going to be INSANE.
> 
> Hint: Reiner's Halloween Party uwu
> 
> P.S. I'm now following the fic: wyti tag on tumblr, so feel free to add anything there!


	6. The Boys of Trost Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean goes to his first high school party alone and Marco is nervous as hell.
> 
> So he gathers the help of two loyal friends to help keep Jean out of trouble.
> 
> Well...at least they tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guyssssssss, almost 1500 hits already, I can't believe it uwu
> 
> So as thanks, I practically pulled an all-nighter just to finish this chapter up. It's been about a week so I hope it hasn't been too long.
> 
> Also, thank you sooooo much for all the amazing/encouraging comments and messages left here and on tumblr. It means so much too me!!
> 
> Now onto the chapter loooool

  Halloween came faster than expected. It came towards the end of the week, an awkward Thursday, to say the least. To be completely honest, Marco wouldn't have known it was Halloween if his mom didn't keep reminding him to take his brother out trick-or-treating.  
  
  
    "What do you mean you're not going to Reiner's party?" Jean looked at Marco with a betrayed look on his face. "Marco, it's _Halloween_."  
  
  
    "I know, I know. But that's why I can't go. My mom's working overtime so she asked me to take my little brother out trick-or-treating." Marco said as he pulled off his shirt to change into his gym uniform.  
  
  
    Jean fought the urge to frown. "What about after that? Like after your brother goes to sleep or something."  
  
  
    The freckled teen shook his head, "I'm babysitting the whole night. And Marius usually doesn't sleep until late because he likes watching the movie marathons on TV."  
  
  
    Jean slumped against his gym locker, feeling the cold metal press against his bare shoulder blades. "That's bogus."  
  
  
    "Well, it gives you more time to bond with the guys." Marco tugged his sweatpants on. "But whatever you do, don't forget we have a game tomorrow. Wouldn't be so hot if you went to a game sporting a major hangover."  
  
  
    _Fuck, he's so built. No fair._ Jean's eyes lingered on Marco's naked torso for a bit longer than expected before quickly snapping his eyes up to keep them focused on Marco's face.  
  
  
    "Psh, I can hold my liquor better than that." The fifteen-year-old scoffed.  
  
  
    Marco looked at him with an amused look on his face. "Whatever you say."  
  


* * *

  
    "Promise?"  
  
  
    Armin put his pencil down and glanced over at Marco, "Yes, Marco. For the fifth time, I promise. I mean, chances are Jean won't listen to me. Much less if _Eren_ gets involved. But I'll keep an eye out for both of them."  
  
  
    Marco settled back in his chair, not even caring about the trigonometry classwork he had in front of him. He was glad he had trig with Armin right after gym, because Lord knew Jean wouldn't have left him alone long enough to talk to Armin covertly.  
  
  
    "I'm sorry, Armin. I'm just...this is the first party Jean's going to alone. And we all know how he gets..."  
  
  
    "Trust me, I know exactly what you mean. I wouldn't trust Eren enough to go anywhere without making a fool out of himself."  
  
  
    Marco seemed amused, "Pretty harsh for a childhood friend, hm?"  
  
  
    Armin furrowed his eyebrows, "Not at all. Eren's an idiot, I'm the first to admit it. There's a reason why Mikasa won't let him out of her sight. He tends to get into trouble wherever he goes. And now that he's met Jean, I don't even want to think about what those two are capable of."  
  
  
    Marco sighed, "I know. That's why I'm nervous. Especially since it's _Reiner's_ party. You don't know him that well but let me tell you, he's...eccentric, to say the least."  
  
  
    "Wasn't he body surfing during the last party?"  
  
  
    "I wasn't there but I wouldn't put it passed him. He's not entirely a good influence."  
  
  
    Armin fought the urge to snort at the freckled teen's comment but simply went back to trying to figure out the formulas on the chalkboard.  
  
  
    "If you're that worried about him, try talking to his boyfriend. He might be able to talk some sense into Reiner."  
  
  
    Marco wanted to groan in frustration. Bertholdt was an entirely different story.  
  


* * *

  
    "M-Marco, you know I can't...."  
  
  
    "But you _can_ , Bert, I know you can. Reiner loves you and he'll listen to you, I'm sure," Marco pleaded.  
  
  
    Sweat stains began to form on Bertholdt's shirt. Marco almost felt sorry for cornering the nervous wreck.  
  
  
    "But I can't...Reiner never listens to me. He just calls me a wuss and tries to shut me up..." Bertholdt's eyes moved down to look at his feet. "Even if I wanted to, it'd be hard to get him to agree."  
  
  
    Marco slouched against the wall. "I just need you to remind him that we have a game tomorrow so he should end the party early."  
  
  
    The taller teen looked scandalized, "He would never-"  
  
  
    "Okay, okay, um...how about telling him to lessen the alcohol?"  
  
  
    "...You know how much Reiner and Ymir love drinking games."  
  
  
    Marco ran his hand through his hair out of frustration. "Can you at least try and look after Jean? He's just a first-year and you know how desperate they can get."  
  
  
    Bertholdt finally made eye contact with the younger teen, "You're...worrying about Jean?"  
  
  
    A flush rose to cover Marco's cheeks, "Uh, yes, I mean...he's my friend and he's just a first-year so I feel like I should keep him on the right path, so..." He rubbed the back of his neck in nervousness.  
  
  
    A soft smiled rested on Bertholdt's face, "Okay..."  
  
  
    "Hm?"  
  
  
    "I-I'll try. I don't think it'll work but...I can try. Since you care about Jean, I can try."  
  
  
    The third-year's words made Marco blush even harder but the freckled teen was relieved to hear them.  
  
  
    "Thanks, Bert. It means a lot to me," Marco smiled.  
  
  
    The tall teen nodded and quickly shuffled away back to his English literature class. Marco had cut out of his Italian class just to visit Bert and get him alone to talk.  
  
  
    _Okay...maybe Jean will be fine after all. If it's Armin and Bert, I'm sure they'll have it under control_. Marco thought optimistically. _No more worrying, Marco. Your friends have got your back._  
  
  


* * *

    "Is that all you can drink, Kirschtein?" Eren taunted.  
  
  
    Jean spilled some beer on his camo pants and tried to wipe it away with the edge of his dark hoodie.  
  
  
    "We all know you've only had like three beers, Jaeger. This is my..." Jean looked up at the ceiling as if it helped him remember how many drinks he had. "Probably my fifth. I've got you beat."  
  
  
    Eren scoffed, "That's 'cause I'm lettin' you off easy." He glanced around for another alcoholic beverage to consume. His eyes settled on a clear bottled liquid. "Shots. Time to do shots."  
  
  
    Just as Jean grabbed a tiny class and allowed Eren to pour him some liquid, Armin came barging into the room and snatched the tequila out of Eren's hands.  
  
  
    "That's enough, you two. We all know you guys can't handle your liquor."  
  
  
    Both Jean and Eren looked equally as pissed, confused, and offended.  
  
  
    "You're jus' jealous 'cause you gotta drive." Jean began to slur.  
  
  
    Armin fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I don't drive, Jean."  
  
  
    The taller teen squinted in confusion. "Since when?"  
  
  
    "Okay, that's _definitely_ the cue for you guys to stop." Armin set the tequila bottle in a far off counter corner and grabbed his friends' arms and led them to the living room. "Time to go."  
  
  
    Just as they neared the door, Armin noticed a familiar muscular blond sitting on the couch. Reiner leaned down and drew his face closer to the table in front of him, which had a suspicious looking white powder set up in a line.  
  
    Armin's jaw set as he tugged Eren and Jean towards the door.  
  
  
    "Wazzat?" Eren asked as he looked back at the crowd forming around Reiner.  
  
  
    "Nothing good," Armin replied.  
  
  
    Just as they neared the exit, a loud voice called after them.  
  
  
    "Where ya boys heading off to?" Reiner got up from the couch and wiped some white powder off his face as his nose twitched.  
  
  
    Armin furrowed his eyebrows, "Do you really think it's a good idea to do that stuff with so many witnesses around? It could jeopardize your graduation, Reiner."  
  
  
    The bulky blond looked taken aback but smiled nonetheless. "Ah, lighten up, Lil' Bro. It's still me. I'm all good. Just needed some extra spike, ya know?" He winked.  
  
  
    Armin didn't look convinced. "Where's your boyfriend?"  
  
  
    "Bertl?" He smirked and licked his lips. "Let's just say he's a little preoccupied at the moment."  
  
  
    Armin tightened his hold on Eren's arm, not liking what Reiner was implying. He turned to exit but he realized he wasn't holding on to Eren anymore. Jean was still to his left, drinking what was left of his beer and bobbing his head to the music. But Eren was nowhere to be seen.  
  
  
    _Shoot, where did he go?_  
  
  
    At that moment, Armin heard a yell come from the basement and he rushed to see what happened. He knew that yell anywhere.  
  
  
    "Eren!"  
  
  
    Once Armin stepped foot in the dark basement, a mixture of odd fragrances entered his nostrils. He sensed the obvious first, a strong hint of weed coming from a corner where he swore he saw Sasha and Connie sitting. Then he smelled a thick odor of alcohol, presumably emitted from the dozens of bodies standing around. Lastly, he smelled something akin to...bodies. Not a bad or a good smell. It was almost...sensual.  
  
    Armin wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he was starting to wonder just what went on down there.  
  
  
    Luckily, he found Eren before he saw anything he regretted seeing.  
  
  
    "Dude, Min, look at his tattoos!" Eren looked on with bright eyes at the tattooed man sitting on the couch with a couple of girls surrounding him.  
  
  
    Armin highly doubted this man was a high school student. He looked no younger than twenty-five.  
  
  
    Jean came fumbling down the stairs. "Why ya yellin', asshole?"  
  
  
    "Because his tattoos are awesome, fucktruck," Eren replied as he rudely continued to stare at the man who didn't even look annoyed.  
  
  
    "Wanna know how I got these?" The man spoke up. Eren nodded fervently. Even Jean began to look interested. The man rolled up his sleeves and showcased them. "I got these after I got my ass handed to me by a notorious gangbanger."  
  
  
    The teens' eyebrows shot up. "He was the dirtiest fighter you'll ever meet. Not to mention a fucking amazing tattoo artist. He only inks a chosen few, though. I was a lucky one. Once I joined his gang and he got to know me, he gave me these. For my loyalty."  
  
  
    Armin hated to admit it, but he was impressed by the man's collection of tattoos. They were actually relatively beautiful. He couldn't quite make out the exact design of the tattoos in the dark, but he could tell the artist held a deeper meaning when he tattooed the man. Armin just couldn't place his finger on what that emotion was...

  
    "I want one!" Eren suddenly exclaimed.  
  
  
    Armin snapped out of his thoughts and silently thanked God Mikasa was too busy at a tournament to come to the party. He was sure she'd get an aneurysm from Eren's sudden announcement.  
  
  
    At that moment, Reiner came bustling down the stairs with a flushed Bertholdt in tow.  
  
  
    "Sorry ta break to ya, kid, but I don't do tats." The man said.  
  
  
    "But you _do_ do something else, right?" Reiner greeted the tattooed man.  
  
  
    "At a price." The man replied.  
  
  
    Reiner grinned, "You know I'd pay ya well, Shabi."  
  
  
    The man, Shabi, leaned forward and smirked. "Let me get my stuff set up then."  
  
  
    Armin's eyes looked around anxiously. _Just what is he planning on doing?_  
  
  
    From the corner of his eye he saw Connie join in on Eren and Jean's excited drunken rambling.  
  
    Armin sighed.  
  
  
    _Those idiots._

* * *

  
    "Marcoooo, hurry up!" A tiny mop of black hair whined.  
  
  
    "Hold on, I'm getting the popcorn ready." The freckled teen called out from the kitchen.  
  
  
    "You're missing the part where Jason slices the girl in half!"  
  
  
    Marco rushed into the living room, "Marius! Mom said no rated-R movies!"  
  
  
    Marco's little brother pouted, "But they're just playing Halloweentown _again_ on ABC Family. I'm tired of it."  
  
  
    "Hey, it was your idea to watch the marathon, lil' man."  
  
  
    "Yeah but I'm _eight_ now. I can watch scarier movies. Ronnie's older brother said he started watching Friday the thirteenth when _he_ was eight."  
  
  
    Marco grabbed the remote and switched the channel, "Yes but you're not Ronnie's brother."  
  
  
    Marius kicked his brother's shin and maintained his pouting face.  
  
  
    "Hey there, I thought you were Spider-man this year, not Flash." Marco joked.  
  
  
    "You're not funny, _Superman._ " The tiny dark-haired kid stuck his tongue out as his hand dove into his basket of candy that he gathered that day.  
  
  
    "I still don't get what you have against Superman! He's strong, tall, and heroic. Not to mention he seems like a nice guy."  
  
  
    " _Boring._ A superhero needs to be cool and badass."  
  
  
    Marco smacked the top of his little brother's head. "No swearing, Marius!"  
  
  
    The pout on the boy's face increased, "But I hear your _boyfriend_ say it all the time."  
  
  
    A thick blush spread across Marco's cheeks. "H-He's not my boyfriend!"  
  
  
    "Yeah, yeah." Marius said as he snuggled into his Spider-man onesie.  
  
  
    Marco tossed a popcorn kernel at his little brother's head. "And stop listening in on my Skype calls!"  
  
  
    "Not my fault you laugh loudly. John doesn't even sound cute. If it were me, I'd pick a guy who had a cute voice like a girl's."  
  
  
    "Marius, you're _eight_." Marco couldn't believe his ears. "And his name is Jean, not 'John'!"  
  
  
    The boy rolled his eyes, "I'm a _man_. Today, Deanna and Toby's sister Stacy asked me out! They said I looked manly in my Spider-man costume."  
  
  
    The freckled teen felt like burying his face into his hands in frustration. "Marius. You. Are. Only. Eight-years-old. No girlfriends until you're in college."  
  
  
    "But it's okay for you to have a boyfriend in high school?"  
  
  
    "He's not my boyfriend!"  
  
  
    "Sure," the boy said as he stuffed his face with candy.  
  
  
    Marco sighed. He really hoped Armin and Bertholdt were having an easier time dealing with their equivalents of sassy little brothers.  


* * *

  
    "Jean, stop!"  
  
  
    Armin felt the amber-eyed teen lift up his shirt. The blond winced as he felt the cold air hit his midsection.  
  
  
    "It'll hurt less if you calm down." Jean said as his hand made contact with Armin's skin.  
  
  
    Eren held down Armin's arms as a cold, gloved hand met Armin's stomach.  
  
  
    "Don't worry, I'll be up after you." Jean reassured.  
  
  
    "Shut up, dipprick. You're creeping him out." Eren shoved Jean.  
  
  
    Jean slapped a hand over Eren ear, earning a howl from the shorter teen.  
  
  
    "I swear, after Shabi's done with Min, I'll tell 'im to make yours hurt." Eren threatened.  
  
  
    The taller teen rolled his eyes. "Whatever, you whiney bitch."  
  
  
    Armin closed his eyes as he allowed multiple hands to hold him down by the wrists and the waist.  
  
  
    _It'll all be over soon._ He chanted to himself. _Sorry, I broke our promise, Marco._

* * *

  
    Marco arrived early to his gym class. He had skipped his English Composition class since he slept in due to the all-nighter he and Marius pulled. The boy could watch movie after movie and never get tired. Marco was sure it was a skill.  
  
    Either way, he was anxious about coming to school in general because then he'd see just how his plan worked out. Luckily, or unluckily, PE was the first class he had with Jean...as well as with the other boys.  
  
    He took his time changing into his gym clothes when a familiar two-tone haired teen came in dragging himself to his locker.  
  
  
    "Oh no," Marco said out loud.  
  
  
    "Oh yeth," Jean replied with a strong lisp.  
  
  
     Marco's eyes widened, "Why do you-" Jean opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Marco gasped, dropping his gym shirt on the floor. "You've got to be kidding me."  
  
  
    "With I wath." Jean glanced down at the barbell impaling his tongue. "Woke up with thith bad boy and almoth regretted not remembering what happened lath night."  
  
  
    Marco practically slammed his head against his locker. "I told Armin to keep you out of trouble..."  
  
  
    "If it maketh you feel better, I heard Eren got his nippleth pierthed." Jean smirked.  
  
  
    "You're lying."  
  
  
    "Only one way to find out." Jean said as he recognized a familiar green-eyed teen enter the locker room.  
  
  
    Without another word, Jean came up from behind Eren and twisted his nipples hard.  
  
    Eren jumped in shock and elbowed the teen, pushing him away.  
  
  
    "What the _fuck_ is your problem, you homo!?" Eren brought his arms up to cover his chest.  
  
  
    Jean looked genuinely confused. "Why aren't you writhing in pain? Didn't you get your nipth pierthed?"  
  
  
    "What? Fuck no. I got my ear pierced, remember?" Eren turned his head to show a stud going through the helix of his left ear. "Bert was the one who got his nipples pierced."  
  
  
    Both Jean and Marco's mouths dropped.  
  
    They didn't even have time to comment on that when they saw Connie walk in with a curved barbell hanging from his nose.  
  
  
    "Duuuuuuude," both Eren and Jean exclaimed.  
  
  
    Connie bowed his head in shame, "Thing hurts like a motherfucker." Marco stared at the bald teen's septum piercing in disbelief. "My mom saw it this morning and threatened to rip it out if it's not gone by next week."  
  
  
    "Thucks to thuck." Jean said.  
  
  
    Connie stared at Jean for a few moments before bursting out laughing. "Dude, what the hell?"  
  
  
    Marco sighed and rubbed his temples, "Jean apparently got his tongue pierced."  
  
  
    This just caused Connie to laugh even harder, which actually ended up making his nose hurt so he winced as he chuckled.  
  
  
    "Probably hurts less than Reiner's penis piercing." Armin said nonchalantly as he walked in and began opening his locker, next to Eren's.  
  
  
    The teens suddenly grew quiet.  
  
  
    "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Jean said. The other three boys nodded in unison.  
  
  
    Armin looked the most miserable out of all of them. Marco knew he must have felt guilty for not keeping his promise.  
  
  
    Marco settled a hand on his shoulder, "It's okay. I don't blame you for their stupidity. Could've been worse, right?"  
  
  
    Armin's fist tightened at his side and he looked like he was on the verge of tears.  
  
  
    "Ar...min?"  
  
  
    The short blond teen unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the side before facing Marco, whose eyes refused to leave Armin's.  
  
    Armin glanced down and the freckled teen followed his line of vision down to his midsection.  
  
  
    "Oh no..."  
  
  
    "Eren and Jean forced me into it. They wouldn't let me go and Reiner was just laughing hysterically like it was a freaking joke!"  
  
  
    "Armin, we thaid we're tho-" Jean abruptly shut his mouth when he saw Armin glare at him.  
  
  
    Eren put a hand on Jean's shoulder and shook his head. "Trust me, he's gonna be mad until he gets over it. No amount of sorries are gonna make it better."  
  
  
    Marco looked at Armin's pierced belly button and felt incredibly sorry for the teen. "I should have gone. I could have paid someone to babysit my brother just so I could've kept things under control."  
  
  
    Armin shook his head as he rubbed his hand against his eye, wiping away any tears that threatened to fall.  
  
  
    "It's said and done. No point in dwelling on it any longer...even though I feel like choking those two," the blond said as he glared daggers at Eren and Jean.  
  
  
    Marco sighed for the umpteenth time that morning. "Well...at least it suits you," he motioned towards the barbell in Armin's navel.  
  
  
    Armin groaned.  
  
    It was going to be a long day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've literally had this chapter planned since October. You have no idea how badly I've been wanting to write this.
> 
> I hope it was funny because I found it amusing. Poor Marco and Armin, the crap they have to go through.
> 
> Also, MARIUS IS LITERALLY THE SASSIEST 8YEAROLD EVER. IDK HOW THAT EVEN HAPPENED BUT I LOVE IT. He's literally me at that age tbh.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you guys think btw! Either here or on tumblr, I'm now tracking the fic: wyti and fic: poh tags :DDD


	7. Birthday Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More often than not, Armin was right. And Jean hated it.
> 
> He was more insightful and rational than he looks.
> 
> Not to mention he has some secrets, both his own and about others. Thank GOD he keeps his mouth shut. Well, most times, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goshhh, I'm sorry!!! I've had such terrible writer's block for the past 3 weeks ;A;  
> But today I was suddenly hit with motivation and wrote down everything I planned!! It actually came out better than I thought.
> 
> Also, I finished outlining the rest of this fic and I can happily say that this fic will have a total of 20 chapters, most likely. And THEN it'll split into 2 separate endings (posted as separate fics that I'll link to), which will have about 5-10 chapters each. 
> 
> Now, onto the chapter!! :DD

  Marco leaned over in his seat, "Have you worked on the homework yet?"  
  
  
    Armin nodded, "Yep, I had free time yesterday so I finished it up then."  
  
  
    The older teen slumped against his desk and sighed. "I wonder when Coach has time to grade so many papers. He practically lives on the field."  
  
  
    Armin looked around and made sure their teacher wasn't looking at them. "He sleeps in the library during his break periods. He and Monsieur Levi usually meet up and stay at the back of the library grading tests."  
  
  
    Marco's eyebrows shot up, "And he just falls asleep? I've never seen him relax once..."  
  
  
    The blond shrugged, "I suppose he feels comfortable around Levi. Eren told me he sometimes visits soccer practice."  
  
  
    "Yeah, every now and then...I think they have a kind of, er, _relationship_."  
  
  
    "You think they're together?"  
  
  
    Marco rubbed a finger underneath his nose, "Y-Yeah...uh," he cleared out his throat. "Anyway, so you go to the library a lot, yeah?"  
  
  
    Armin nodded, "It's the ideal place to study. Also where I manage to get all my biology homework done." He laughs a little.  
  
  
    "Oh gosh, I remember bio. My first year was rough. Ms. Hange is brutal with her lab assignments." Marco glanced over at Erwin and realized he was still going around checking classwork, so he wasn't paying attention to what was happening across the room. The freckled teen's eyes flicked over to the cover of Armin's book, which had a map of the world. "So you like to travel?"  
  
  
    Armin's eyes seemed to light up. "I do. I mean, I haven't been out of the country but I hope to do so in college and after that."  
  
  
    "What do you want to be?"  
  
  
    Armin tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear and a slight blush appeared on his cheeks. "I was thinking something like an archaeologist or historian of some sort."  
  
  
    "Wow, that's amazing, Armin!" Marco smiled wide.  
  
  
    The teens noticed their AP government teacher approach their rows and they quickly turned back to the work in front of them.  
  
  
    _Interesting..._ Marco thought.  


* * *

  
    "So you're gonna get him a book...about _rocks_."  
  
  
    Marco frowned, "They're not rocks, Jean. They're sediments that typically surround ancient artifacts at archaeological dig sites."  
  
  
    Jean stared at the freckled teen dubiously. "Riiiiight."  
  
  
    "Well, what are _you_ getting Armin?"  
  
  
    The younger teen shrugged, "I dunno, man. A card? I'm not good at gifts and junk."  
  
  
    "What did Eren say he was giving him?" Marco inquired as he looked through the other books on the shelf.  
  
  
    "Little shit wouldn't tell me. He said he and Mikasa have this _thing_ they do for Armin every year and wouldn't let me know what."  
  
  
    "Hm…might be something sentimental, then."  
  
  
    Jean wandered over to a bookshelf opposite to the section they were looking at. "Hey, you said he wants to travel, right?"  
  
  
    "Uh, yeah, why?"  
  
  
    Jean smirked, "I think I have an idea of what to get him."  


* * *

  
    "We all know surprises don't work," Jean said as he adjusted his position behind the couch.  
  
  
    Marco elbowed him in the ribs and nearly made him lose his balance. "Shush."  
  
  
    Jean rolled his eyes.  
  
  
   They were currently squatting behind Reiner's couch while Connie and Sasha were under the staircase. They all decided to throw Armin a surprise birthday party because if anyone deserved to have fun, it was that study bug.  
  
  
    Jean wondered how Eren managed to convince Reiner to let them use his place. But then again, Reiner was always looking for a reason why to throw a party. Though they kept it relatively small this time.  
  
  
    A knock came from the door and Reiner jumped up to answer it, knowing it was Eren and Mikasa with Armin.  
  
  
    Marco was shaking in excitement.  
  
  
    "Calm down there, Freckles," Jean managed before he heard Armin's voice.  
  
  
    "Where is everyo—"  
  
  
    "SURPRISE!!!"  
  
  
    After the initial shock, Armin shook his head. "I can't believe you guys actually did it."  
  
  
    Reiner shoved Eren, "You _blabbed_?"  
  
  
    "What!? No!"  
  
  
    "Guys, you're extremely obvious. Once Eren said you were having a party, I knew something was up. Eren's ears turn red when he's up to something."  
  
  
    Reiner smirked, "Nothing gets passed you, huh, lil' bro?" He ruffled Armin's hair. "But Eren wasn't completely lying. We _are_ having a party. For you."  
  
  
    Armin couldn't help the smile that formed on his face. So everyone took that as a good sign and began taking out their presents.  
  
  
    "Open my and Connie's first!" Sasha called out.  
  
  
    "Knowing you two, it's probably a whoopie cushion," Jean muttered under his breath.  
  
  
    To his surprise, it was something equally as stupid.  
  
  
    "Are these bow ties?" The blond teen seemed confused.  
  
  
    Sasha nodded, "Yep!! You can't complete your professional-look without a respectable tie. Right, Connie?"  
  
  
    The short teen next to her agreed. "Mine is the green one with burgers. Her's is the red one with fries."  
  
  
    Armin looked amused, "It's the thought that counts."  
  
  
    Sasha and Connie both laughed hysterically and made room for Marco to give his present.  
  
  
    The older teen smiled bashfully and held out his carefully wrapped present. "I know we haven't known each other for long but you're the best partner to have in AP gov. Coach would eat me alive if you didn't help. So...thank you and happy birthday, Armin!"  
  
  
    Armin accepted the present and opened it, revealing the book Marco had bought. His eyes seemed to sparkle.  
  
  
    "Marco, you shouldn't have." His eyes looked over the cover and he flipped through the pages. "It must have cost you a fortune. It has so many details of various archaeological sites!"  
  
  
    The freckled teen rubbed his nose bashfully. "Well you mentioned the other day that you wanted to be an archaeologist and travel and well, I thought this would be useful."  
  
  
    "It will. Thank you, I love it," Armin smiled wide as he held the book close to his chest.  
  
  
    Next, Jean moved from behind Marco and held his poorly wrapped present to his side.  
  
  
    "Marco mentioned you liked to travel and you're like pretty good at history and junk and I, er, thanks for letting me copy your bio homework sometimes." Jean was never good at this sentimental stuff so he practically shoved his bulky present towards Armin.  
  
  
    Armin set down his book and carefully began to unwrap his new present. Once he saw through the plastic, his eyebrows shot up.  
  
  
    "A fucking _toy_? Jesus, Kirschtein, he's not _five_." Eren complained from beside Armin.  
  
  
    Jean flipped him the finger, "S-Shut up, Jaeger!"  
  
  
    "It's not a toy, Eren." Armin spoke up as he opened the box the plane was in. "It's a model of a World War Two fighter jet." His eyes lit up. "How did you know that was my favorite time period?"  
  
  
    "Uh, I didn't?" Jean scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "I just figured you wanted to travel and you like history so I got you a model of an old historic plane or whatever. The guy at the store said it was like the best jet America had during the war so I figured it must've been cool."  
  
  
    "Jean he can't travel with a model plane," Sasha teased.  
  
  
    "Zip it, fatass! It's better than your bogus bow tie!" Jean got defense.  
  
  
    Armin shook his head, "No, I love both of your presents. Thank you, Jean."  
  
  
    The blond's smile was sincere, Jean could tell that much, which made the two-tone teen even more embarrassed.  
  
  
    "Y-Yeah...no problem," he said as he shuffled to the side.  
  
  
    Eren cleared his throat, "And now, for the best gift _ever_! Bring it in, Mikasa!"

 

    "Oh no, what did you make this year?" Armin set his other presents down.  
  
  
    Mikasa appeared from the kitchen and carried a medium-sized globe and settled it into Armin's hands. Once he felt the texture he noticed that it was paper mâché.  
  
  
    "You made Mikasa do all the work again, didn't you?"  
  
  
    Eren pouted, "Nuh uh! I painted it!"  
  
  
    Armin rolled his eyes but rolled the globe around in his hands. He heard a bit of rumbling coming from the inside. "What'd you stuff it with?"  
  
  
    Eren smirked, "I'm glad you asked."  
  
  
    "Throw it," Mikasa said softly.  
  
  
    "What?"  
  
  
    "Break it."  
  
  
    Armin looked confused and glanced back and forth between the globe and his friends. He then raised the globe above his head before bringing it crashing down onto the floor. The globe broke into pieces, which made Armin feel guilty for breaking something his friends clearly spent so much time on. But his eyes widened when he saw what spilled out into the floor.  
  
  
    He bent down. "Are these...postcards?"  
  
  
    Eren smiled wide, "Yep. You've been talking about traveling and even though me and Mikasa can't get you a trip around the world, we want you to tell us all about it once you do."  
  
  
    "But—"  
  
  
    The green-eyed teen shook his head, "No, you _will_. We know you will. If anyone here is capable of being successful, it's you. So just promise us that wherever you travel, you'll send us one of these postcards to tell us about your adventures."  
  
  
    "Happy Birthday," Mikasa said as she nuzzled into her scarf.  
  
  
    Armin bit his bottom lip to stop it from shaking. His blue eyes emphasized by the tears that filled them.  
  
  
    "You guys..." He leaned up and wrapped his arms around Eren's neck before extending an arm to Mikasa, who settled into it.  
  
  
    Jean and the others suddenly felt like they were imposing on something private.  
  
  
    But then Jean saw Eren sink his teeth into Armin's shoulder.  
  
  
    "Whoa, what the hell!?"  
  
  
    Eren glanced up and slowly removed his mouth from Armin's shoulder. "What?"  
  
  
    "Why the fuck did you _bite_ him?" Jean looked horrified.  
  
  
    "Because I want to?" Eren looked at Jean like he was the stupid one.  
  
  
    "It's a form of endearment," Armin said. "It's not like it hurts. He just does it to show his affection. It’s relatively common."  
  
  
    Jean looked back and forth between the two teens. "You guys are either fucking or fucking _weird_."  
  
  
    "Fuck you!" Eren called out, accidentally yelling into Armin's ear.  
  
  
    _Weirdoes._ Jean thought as Sasha brought out the cake Reiner and Bertholdt had bought.  


* * *

  
    "Assholes did it on purpose." Jean crossed his arms over his chest and settled against a stack of who-knows-what to his right.  
  
  
    "Well, you know how Ymir likes to play games. And I'll admit, seven minutes in heaven is a classic." Armin settled against his side of the closet.  
  
  
    "Bitch needs to stop playing." Jean muttered before glancing back up at the blond. "Sorry I'm not a hot chick."  
  
  
    Armin shrugged, "You're not too bad yourself."  
  
  
    Jean's eyebrows shot up and he felt his face heat up. "I always thought the way you clung to Eren was creepy but I didn't think you were a real homo."  
  
  
    The younger teen sighed, "I don't know if I am or not. There's nothing between me and Eren besides childhood friendship. But...I don't see myself attracted to women as much as men."  
  
  
    Jean's mouth fell open. He stuttered multiple times but didn't actually manage to formulate any words. So both teens sat in awkward silence for a few moments.  
  
  
    _These sure are the longest seven minutes of my life.  
_  
  
    The golden-eyed teen tried to entertain himself for the next few minutes but found that there was a limit to how many things he could concentrate on. So he did what he was best at: ramble.  
  
  
    "I could never fall for a guy."  
  
  
    Armin's mouth twitched to the side as he contemplated what to say.  
  
  
    "You don't choose who you fall in love with. Love doesn't have a gender.  
  
  
    This caught Jean off-guard. "Yeah, well, I sure do. And I can't like something that has a dick."  
  
  
    Armin's jaw seemed to set but he kept his voice calm. "Not everyone shares your point of view."  
  
  
    "Never said they had to. I'm just being honest."  
  
  
    "Don't be so quick to stating your opinions. You could hurt those closest to you." Armin glanced at his watch.  
  
  
    "Like wh—" The closet door suddenly opened and Jean was the first to scramble out.  
  
  
    "What? Were his blowjobs that bad?" Reiner laughed.  
  
  
    Ymir, Connie, and Sasha joined in the laughter.  
  
  
    "Shut up, jerkoffs!! Nothing happened!" Jean strained his vocal cords trying to defend himself.  
  
  
    "Nothing better have!" Eren shouted back.  
  
  
    As Armin crawled out of the closet, Marco helped him up.  
  
  
    "Sorry I couldn't stop them," Marco apologized.  
  
  
    Armin dusted himself off, "Don't worry, nothing happened."  
  
  
    A blush spread across the freckled teen's cheeks. "O-Oh? Okay, good to hear."  
  
  
    The blond looked at his freckled friend with a contemplative look on his face but said nothing.  


* * *

  
    Armin rolled Eren onto the bed in the basement and sat on the edge.  
  
  
    "I feel bad for their livers," Berholdt's voice came from behind Armin.  
  
  
    "Tell me about it. They always over drink and never know their limit. Even Mikasa drank this time," the blond said as he looked over at Mikasa sleeping next to Eren. "Please let Reiner know that I'm grateful for him allowing us to have a party here. It means a lot to me."  
  
  
    Bertholdt smiled softly, "It was one of the calmest parties we've ever had. I'd say it was worth it."  
  
  
    Armin returned the smile and went back upstairs to get a bottle of water. He stepped quietly so as not to disturb whoever was sleeping on the first floor. He noticed Marco putting a blanket over on Jean, who was passed out on the couch.  
  
    The blue-eyed teen opened his mouth to comment on how ridiculous Jean looked with drool dripping onto the couch but quickly snapped it shut when he saw the events unfold in front of him. Marco leaned down and pressed his lips to Jean's cheek. It was dark, but Armin couldn't mistake what had just happened.

  
  
    Marco blushed and nuzzled his nose into Jean's neck, a soft smile decorating his features.  
  
  
    _Well who would've thought..._ Armin thought to himself as he quietly scampered off into the kitchen, his heart beating rapidly.  
  
  
    He rested against the counter. _Jean Kirschtein, you are definitely loved.  
  
_

The blond then glanced over to make sure Marco was still by the couch.  
  
  
 _They're in for a world of hurt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUNDUNDUNNNN  
> Marco was the first to fall *u* And Armin was there to witness it.
> 
> Incredible.
> 
> P.S. I am no longer tracking the fic: poh tag since I decided another story would benefit from it. I'm just tracking the fic: wyti tag on tumblr :DD


	8. Voglio Baciarti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were a lot of things Marco was grateful for. The roof over his head, his wonderful mother, his annoying little brother, his amazing friends...but most importantly, the dweeb he could call his best friend.
> 
> So what if his father was a douchebag? At least they could bond over deadbeat dads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, in my defense, I was planning on saving this cute update for Marco's birthday but guess what dumbass fell asleep and didn't wake up until the next morning???
> 
> This stupid fuck.
> 
> So here it is. Nearly 5000 words of fluff and tragic backstory. Heck yea.
> 
> ALSO: WARNING::: IMPLIED RAPE fyi. It's not graphic or anything, Marco just kinda mentions it so....yeah...

   Marco kicked the ball into Jean's direction, forcing the younger teen to stop it and dribble it between his feet.

 

   “Yo, Earth to Marco!?” Jean called out to his friend. “Practice ended like half an hour ago? Why you still kicking balls in my face?”

 

   _No, stop it, Marco Bodt! Now is_ not _the time to think like a twelve-year-old pervert._ Marco shook his head, earning a quizzical stare from the younger teen.

 

   “Just a few more minutes, please?”   
  
  
    Soccer practice was wrapping up considering they weren't going to have another game until the week after, due to the holidays.  
  
  
    Jean lifted his shirt and used it to wipe off the sweat on his face. "Trying to get some extra practice in there, huh, Freckles?"  
  
  
    He kicked back the ball, which Marco easily caught. "You know Italian thanksgivings. I'll need to work out every day to burn all the calories I'll be gaining tomorrow."  
  
  
    " _Lucky_. I think we had an actual turkey like once when I was seven. Now my mom just works overtime since my dad's like...out during holidays."  
  
  
    The black-haired teen didn't know Jean's exact family situation, but he knew it was along the lines of emotional abuse and negligence. Maybe not directly but he knew it was present in some way.  
  
    Marco bit his lip and shifted from foot to foot.

 

   “Is it like that for every holiday?”

 

   Jean shrugged and tossed back the ball with his foot. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, they used to try and make an effort during Christmas, but even that’s fallen to shit. Hell, we’re not even remotely religious. So what’s it gonna matter anyway, ya know?”

 

   Marco tried gave a dry chuckle, “Are you kidding? With a Roman Catholic _Italian_ as a mother, holidays, _especially_ Christmas and Easter are a must. I gain like ten pounds after each holiday. If I hadn’t joined a sport, I’d probably be a million pounds by now.”

 

   “I’m trying to imagine a chubby you and I’m almost upset it’s not real,” Jean teased. Marco stuck his tongue out at his practice buddy, who just gave a heartily laugh and jogged across the field to get his water bottle. “But hey, if you don’t wanna get _too_ wide on the waist, you could always bring me some of your leftovers. Ha, just kidding!”  
  
  
    "Do you want to, uh...come over for Thanksgiving?"  
  
  
    A silence passed between them, neither knowing what was going on in each other's head.  
  
  
    Jean let out a heavy breath. "Thanksgiving is for family. I don't want to take that from your mom or anything. I'm just a stranger and I don't really—"  
  
  
    Marco frowned, "Jean, you're _not_ a stranger. I'm inviting you because I know my mom would be okay with it. And I _want_ you to come. You're not a stranger...you're my...b-best friend..."  
  
  
    A bright blush formed on both teens' faces. Had Marco said it too soon? What if Jean didn't feel the same way? Maybe now he didn't want to visit for Thanksgiving at all.  
  
  
    _Ugh, Marcooooo. You always do this! Now he's not gonna want to come..._ Marco silently berated himself.  
  
  
    "Sure."  
  
  
    "...Really?"  
  
  
    Jean nodded, "Y-Yeah, I mean, if that's okay."  
  
  
    Marco didn't even realize it but a bright smile appeared on his face. "Of course, yeah, wow, okay. So, I'll pick you up at around four. Is that okay?"  
  
  
    "Yeah, Freckles, that's fine," the two-toned teen smirked and shifted awkwardly.  
  
  
    _I guess you didn't mess up entirely, huh?_  


* * *

  
    Marco was punctual as usual, which irked Jean...in a good way. He swears it's an honorable quality but like, come on, sometimes a guy just needs a little extra time getting ready, ya know? And Jean _really_ wanted to make a good impression on Marco's family. He needed to look presentable, responsible, and maybe just like the honor student Marco was.  
  
  
    "Fuck, I should've stolen shit from Armin's closet," Jean mumbled to himself as he looked in the mirror.  
  
  
    His button-down would just have to do. He kept the sleeves rolled down and added a black skinny tie. Jean had only worn it about once before during his grandmother's funeral, so he hoped it was okay for Thanksgiving dinner.  
  
  
    Regardless, he practically skipped down the steps and out the door, locking it behind him since he was the only one home...as usual. He walked towards what was undoubtedly Marco's mom's car and hopped into the front seat.  
  
  
    "Sporting the soccer mom van, huh, Mr. Mom?" Jean grinned.  
  
  
    Marco rolled his eyes, " _Ha-ha_ , very funny. No, my car decided to get a flat yesterday while running errands so now I'm, well, you know."  
  
  
    Jean buckled himself in as he nodded. Once they took off, he started playing around with the radio, trying to get a good station on.  
  
  
    "Try 92.3, it has nice music usually around this time." Marco offered.  
  
  
    So the younger teen changed the station and within seconds, a popular Drake song came on.  
  
  
    Marco gasped almost dramatically, "I love this song!!"  
  
  
    The freckled teen wasted no time in bobbing his head and singing along to the music.     " _I got my eyes on you, you're everything that I see. I want your high love and emotion endlessly~"_ His tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and scrunched up his nose whenever he attempted to hit the high notes. Marco shut his eyes and brought his hand to his chest passionately.  
  
  
    "Yo! Eyes open!! You're driving!" Jean squealed.  
  
  
    They stopped at a red light when the song was over, and Marco turned to look at Jean with a wide smile on his face, practically breathless.  
  
  
    "Freak."  
  
  
    Marco's smile dropped, "W-What? _Jeannnnn_. It's not my fault. I love this song..."  
  
  
    "No shit, you knew the lyrics like they were the fucking pledge of allegiance." Jean shook his head as his hand settled on the radio again, pressing random buttons for random stations.  
  
  
    "Sorry..." The elder teen said bashfully.  
  
  
    Jean accidentally pressed the CD button and an obviously romantic Italian ballad began to play. A devious grin appeared on his face as he turned to Marco.  
  
  
    "I'll forgive you for your little mini-concert if you sing _this_."  
  
  
    Marco nearly missed the green light as he sputtered and tried to glance at his friend.  
  
  
    "That's not mine! My mom loves having old Italian CDs in her car so she listens to then, not me."  
  
  
    "But you _do_ know the lyrics, don't you?"  
  
  
    The freckled teen frowned, "Jean..."  
  
  
    "Here, I'll even let you sing your favorite song. Just let me know which track to switch to."  
  
  
    "I hate you."  
  
  
    Jean winked, "Love ya too, bro."  
  
  
    A blush spread across Marco's cheeks, "T-Track 4. I know that one best."  
  
  
    The two-toned teen pressed the skip button until he settled on the fourth track. The song began with a few "flutters", as Jean would call it. It sounded like a transition of sort but Jean knew shit about music so he couldn't put his finger on it.  
  
  
    " _Ora vieni con me, verso un mondo d’incanto.”  
_  
  
    "This sounds familiar," Jean squinted his eyes.  
  
  
    " _Quello che scoprirai è davvero importante_ —"  
  
  
    Jean couldn't put his finger on it, but he KNEW he knew the song from somewhere.  
  
  
    " _Il mondo è tuooo~"  
_  
  
     "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!???"  
  
  
    Marco bit his lip, trying not to smile as he continued.  
  
  
    "You're singing that fucking Aladdin song!?"  
  
  
    The freckled teen tried to carry on with the song but ended up laughing hysterically. He glanced over at Jean out of the corner of his eye.  
  
  
    "What? It's my favorite song. My mom mixed the CD back when I was little and she added it in for me since it was my favorite Disney movie."  
  
  
    Jean sat dumbfounded. "I can't believe..." Marco looked amused. "You're a fucking...a fucking...."  
  
  
    "A what?" Marco says teasingly. "An amazing singer?"  
  
  
    The younger teen stuttered, "S-Shut up!"  
  
  
    Marco said nothing but grinned for the rest of the ride to his house. He knew it was terrible of him to tease Jean, but he couldn't help it. Every little thing seemed to tick him off and Marco found it incredibly adorable.  
  
    _I'm a horrible person,_ Marco thought to himself as he pulled into his driveway.  
  
  
    "Fuck!"  
  
  
    Marco would have slammed on the brakes had he not already parked. "What happened!?"  
  
  
    "I should've brought a cake!"  
  
  
    The freckled teen gave his friend an incredulous look. "Jean, I said don't worry about it. I _invited_ you. Plus, we wouldn't be Italians if we didn't already have a surplus of food."  
  
  
    Jean was still skeptical but hopped out of the van nonetheless. "So do I say like 'ciao' or is that generally frowned down upon?"  
  
  
    Marco snorted as he got his keys ready to open the front door. "Do it and my mom will think you're the biggest dweeb on the face of this earth. Which you are."  
  
  
    "Shut up, smartass. I'm trying to make a good first impression."  
  
  
    "Whatever you say, dweeb." Marco gently pushed the door open and Jean's senses were overwhelmed by the multitude of smells.  
  
  
    "Oh Jesus, I think I stepped into heaven." Jean staggered.  
  
  
    "That, my friend, would be the Bodt family's pride and joy. Seafood bruschetta, roasted shrimp, mini crab cakes, tiramisu, and linguine alfredo."  
  
  
    While the younger teen shuffled out of his shoes and took in the wonderful smell of the food, a tiny figure with a mop of black hair rammed into Marco's side.  
  
  
    "W-Whoa! Hello to you too, Marius." Marco stumbled a few feet back at the impact.  
  
  
    "You said you'd let me go with you to pick up your boyfriend. I even got dressed!" The eight-year-old balled up his hands into tiny fists.  
  
  
    Marco blushed profusely, "Marius!! He's my _best_ friend, not my _boy_ friend." His eyes quickly glanced over at the two-toned teen, whose ears had reddened.  
  
  
    _He didn't say anything about the best friend thing again..._ Marco bit his lip.  
  
  
    "You should be dressed nicely anyway, Marius. Go get your tie on." Marco tried his best not to stutter and make a complete fool out of himself.  
  
  
    "Mamma said not to bother with the tie after last year's fiasco."  
  
  
    "You just learned that word, didn't you?"  
  
  
    Marius gave his older brother a toothy grin, "Yep. Danielle said it makes me sound smart."  
  
  
    Jean looked confused, "Danielle?"  
  
  
    Marco sighed, "His latest 'girlfriend'."  
  
  
    Jean tried not to laugh. "Ah, kiddies in love. I remember my elementary school days."  
  
  
   The elder teen nudged Jean towards the living room, "Okay, Casanova, no need to reminisce your playground conquests."  
  
  
    "Definitely. Because that one time Sally in the second grade let me hold her hand was definitely a conquest."  
  
  
    Marco let out a loud laugh that surprised everyone in earshot, including himself.  
  
  
    "Oh...oh gosh, stop it. I can't handle you, oh god." Marco held his stomach as he nearly buckled over.  
  
  
    Jean opened his mouth to reply but a figure emerged from the kitchen. There was no doubt in Jean's mind that it was Marco's mother. She had the same dark black hair and freckles. Except her eyes were a light blue, rather than the dark chocolate of Marco and Marius' eyes.  
  
  
    _Jesus Christ, this woman literally cloned herself twice over. That or her genes are insanely strong.  
_  
  
    A soft smile appeared on the small Italian woman's face. "I was wondering who made Marco laugh so loudly." She spoke with a heavy Italian accent. One that Jean equated with all those Godfather movies he had watched. Except, she sounded pleasant and not at all comical. "You must be Jean."  
  
  
    Jean's mouth gaped a few times before any actual noise came out. "Uh, y-yes, Mrs. Bodt. Jean Kirschtein," he wasn't sure whether he should shake her hand or bow or whatever it was Italians do. Luckily, Marco's mother did him the pleasure of initiating the kiss on both cheeks.  
  
  
    "Just Mariella. Or Ella is just fine," Marco's mom stepped back and gave him that soft smile her eldest son often gave Jean.  
  
  
    The teen didn't know what to say so he just stuck with the dialogue he had rehearsed in front of the mirror. "T-Thank you for having me over today."  
  
  
    "Il piacere è tutto mio," Ella replied gracefully. She then turned to Marco and seemed to tell him something in quick, short Italian sentences.  
  
  
    "She said to wait in the dining room," Marius translated beside Jean.  
  
  
    The golden-eyed teen glanced down at what could very well be a copy of Marco himself. "You're fluent in Italian too?"  
  
  
    Marius rolled his eyes, "Duh. It was our first language. Marco said he was picked on a lot 'cause he couldn't speak English. But I didn't ‘cause I'm awesome and wayyy good at it!"  
  
  
    Jean's eyebrows shot up, "Marco couldn't speak English?"  
  
  
    "That's what I said, idiota." Marius muttered.  
  
  
    Marco came up from behind Marius and pinched his ear, "Marius, what did I say about insulting my friends?"  
  
  
    The eight-year-old grumbled and folded his arms across his chest.  
  
  
    Marco sighed and shook his head. "Either way, my mom said the food's ready, so just to wait in the dining room."  
  
  
    "Uh, yeah, your brother translated it. How come you didn't tell me your first language was Italian?" Jean put on a teasing smile.  
  
  
    "Marius _told_ you?" The freckled teen asked as he led Jean into the elegantly decorated dining room with a wide china closet and beautiful mahogany table and chairs.  
  
  
    "Hey, no judging from me." Jean sat himself down. "I just think it's cool. You can't even tell it's your second language."  
  
  
    "I have American television to thank for that. My mom used to put on old Disney movies for me to watch. Well, they used to be in Italian but then the teachers started telling her my English was poor, so she worked hard so we could afford cable and we kind of learned it together while watching Days of Our Lives." Marco seemed to lose himself in his reminiscing.  
  
  
    "I always figured your dad was the one who spoke English," Jean blurted out without thinking. He quickly regretted it. "Shit sorry!"  
  
  
    Marius crossed his arms and kept his eyes glued to the ground. Marco put a hand on his shoulder as if to comfort him.  
  
  
    "No...it's okay. Well, our dad, I mean... _my_ dad did. He was American."  
  
  
    "W-Wow..." Jean replied. "Wait, _your_ dad?"  
  
  
    Marco smiled awkwardly, "Yeah, my mom had met him as a student. Typical summer fling, I guess."

  
    Jean didn't want to pry any further and thankfully, he didn't have to. Marco's mom came into the dining room with her hands filled with a large tray of seafood and pasta.  
  
  
    "Marcolino, i piatti," she said.  
  
  
    "Ah, right! Sorry, mamma, I'll get them right now." Marco shuffled out of his seat and into the kitchen to grab plates and silverware.  
  
  
    "Are you sure you don't want me to help with anything, Mrs--uh, Ella?" Jean felt incredibly awkward but he offered his help regardless.  
  
  
    "No, it's okay, just sit and eat, yeah?" She smiled wide and settled the food at the center of the table while practically shouting out orders to both Marco and Marius, asking them to run back and forth between the kitchen and dining room.  
  
  
    Once all the food had been set on the table and the utensils were where they belonged, the Bodt family settled into their seats.  
  
  
    Marco let out a tired breath, "Is this how you guys feel on the field?"  
  
  
    Jean smirked, "Yeah, except we don't have food as our goal."  
  
  
    "But you have my pretty face to look forward to," Marco teased.  
  
  
    "More like we try to stay away from it," Jean teased back.  
  
  
    The freckled teen faked a pout, "Rude."  
  
  
    "Mio fratello è un cretino innamorato con un cavallo," Marius muttered under his breath.  
  
  
    Marco's smile fell and a look of both embarrassment and slight exasperation flashed onto his face. "Marius!"  
  
  
    Their mother smacked Marius upside the head and started yelling at him in angry Italian.  
  
  
    Jean looked at his friend in confusion, "What happened? What did he say?"  
  
  
    "N-Nothing, don't worry about it. Should I say grace?" Marco quickly changed the subject and glanced at his mother.  
  
  
    "Yes, unless Jean would like to do the honors," Ella smiled.  
  
  
    "Ah, no, I don't...I'm not really good with talking to the big Man up there, ya know?" Jean stuttered.  
  
  
    _Way to fuck up, Jean. Tell the hardcore Italian Catholic that you're not religious in the slightest. Nice going, asshole._ He internally kicked himself.  
  
  
    Suddenly, the teen was pulled out of his negative thoughts as Marco reached alongside the table and grabbed his hand.  
  
  
    His heartbeat sped up.  
  
  
    "Don't worry, I'll say it." Marco's cheeks never seemed to leave that shade of pink. Jean glanced down at their interlocked hands but quickly noticed Marco was also holding his mother's, whose hand was intertwined with Marius'. Jean awkwardly lifted his other hand towards Marius. The eight-year-old gave him a look that said "no way in Hell." So the teen settled his hand back into his lap.  
  
  
    Marco bent his head and closed his eyes, so Jean followed suit.  
  
  
    "Our Father up in Heaven..." The freckled teen began. "Thank you for this meal that you have provided for us this evening. In your glory, O Lord, that we shall eat in your name and give thanks for all the blessings you've bestowed upon us. We are forever thankful for our family, our home...our friends..." Jean felt a gentle squeeze on his hand, "and most importantly, our lives. Thank you again for all you have given us. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, amen."  
  
  
    A series of amen's echoed throughout the room, forcing Jean to mumble a quick "mmn", which he felt was better than not saying anything at all.  
  
  
    Marco lifted his head and grinned, "Now, who's ready to eat?"  


* * *

  
    Jean threw himself onto Marco's bed melodramatically and settled a hand on his stomach. "I'm gonna barf my brains out. I ate way too much."  
  
  
    Marco settled himself beside Jean and spread his limbs out haphazardly across the bed. "You know what they say, when in Rome do as the Romans do."  
  
  
    "Italians are no joke."  
  
  
    A light chuckle emitted from Marco's throat, which brought a smile to Jean's face.  
  
  
    He propped himself up and leaned his head onto his hand, "Hey...thanks. For like, inviting me and stuff. It's probably the best thanksgiving I've ever had. Uh... _grazie?_ "  
  
  
    Marco turned to look at his friend and bellowed out into a loud laugh. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any more embarrassing."  
  
  
    "Shut up! I tried, okay!?"  
  
  
    The dark-haired teen wiped away small tears that had formed in both of his eyes from laughing so hard.  
  
  
    "I'm glad you liked my rude little brother and loud Italian mother. I swear I told them to be on their best behavior."  
  
  
    "Marco," Jean said seriously. "Your family is literally made up of angels compared to mine. My mom's a walking time bomb and hell, I barely see my dad at all. I'm thankful that at least one of us has a normal ass family."  
  
  
    Marco stayed silent for a few moments before opening his mouth. "I actually...I only met my dad once. When I was around Marius' age..."  
  
  
    Jean bit his lip and listening quietly, sensing the sudden change in atmosphere.

  
    "My mom had met him while he was studying abroad in Italy. And well...I guess one thing led to another and next thing my mom knew, she was pregnant. But by then, my dad bad to come back to America. Apparently, he swore to the moon and back that he'd keep in contact and come back, but after a few months, my mom realized he was never coming back...."  
  
  
    He took a deep breath before continuing, "So she went to America.  She was probably six months pregnant by then, but that didn't stop her from showing up at his university and looking for him."  
  
  
    "Did she? Find him, I mean."  
  
  
    Marco's eyes moved back up to look at the ceiling, "Not sure. She never told me. Whenever I asked she just told me that we were better off without him. So, for her to say that, she probably _did_ find him."  
  
  
    _Well damn,_ Jean thought. _That's some sad ass backstory.  
_  
  
    "So...you and Marius have different dads?"  
  
  
    A bitter smile, if it could even be called that, appeared on Marco's face. "That's what my mom says, but I highly doubt it. Remember how I told you I met my dad when I was Marius' age? Well...it was by accident. One night, after my  
mom and I had dinner, we were just watching a movie together and there...there was a knock on our front door." A freckled hand balled up into a fist, revealing the bright blue veins in his hands. "All I remember was a man yelling that it was all her fault that his wife left him because she found out or something. I don't remember exactly, all I know is that my mom made me go upstairs and...and she tried to get him to calm down and then, I heard nothing."  
  
  
    Jean let out a breath he hadn't know he was holding.  
  
  
    Marco closed his eyes and let out a strained noise. "T-The next morning she had bruises and she looked like she had cried the whole night. But she told me to pack my stuff and we left that day. I was worried out of my mind but she told me we were going on vacation, so we went to New York City for a week, then we drove up to Canada. I missed a few days of school but it was...a coping mechanism I guess. She needed to get away, leave, anything that made her feel better. And then...we moved here and nine months later, Marius was born."  
  
  
    " _Jesus._ ” Jean's teeth bit into his cheek so hard that he could taste the blood flowing into his mouth.  
  
  
    "I know...I hadn't thought of anything back then. I was just excited that I was having a baby brother, or sister. I really wanted a sister. Would've probably named her Marie or something like that."  
  
  
    Marco turned to see Jean's face contorted in fury. He hesitated at first, but he thought a quick "screw it" and settled a hand on Jean's. He gently pried open Jean's fingers so they weren't clenched into a fist anymore.  
  
  
    "I'm sorry. I totally ruined the evening. I didn't mean to. I just...I needed to tell someone...And Marius doesn't know. He just thinks I have a deadbeat dad somewhere, which is true I suppose."  
  
  
    "I just can't...I can't forgive any asshole who would hurt a woman as kind and gentle as your mom. It fucking pisses me off." Jean's eyebrows furrowed even more than they already had.  
  
  
    Marco turned on his side and poked at Jean's forehead. "You'll wrinkle prematurely if you keep doing that." He smiled sadly, which Jean noted as his need for a conversation switch.  
  
  
    "So...what's with the M's?" Jean attempted at a joke but he was seriously wondering about that.  
  
  
    The freckled teen smiled a bit more sincerely this time. "Ah, yes, the classic name story. I'll save you the details but basically, my mom's favorite singer is Marc Antony..."  
  
  
    "Oh _no_."  
  
  
    "Oh _yes_. So she thought she'd be so clever and named me after her favorite singer, except, boy, her son could very well be bullied with a name like that. So she used Italian names instead. Hence, _Marco Antonio._ Cheesy, right?"  
  
  
    Jean covered his face with his hands, "Oh my goddd, your mom is too much."  
  
  
    Marco held up a hand, "No, wait till I tell you about Marius' name."  
  
  
    "Yeah, I was wondering about that. Isn't that that guy from that French play where like everyone dies?"  
  
  
    Marco nodded, trying not to burst out laughing. "Okay, well it's sadder in retrospect but it's pretty funny hearing her tell Marius the story every now and then. She _swears_ on her _life_ that she had a one-night stand while we were in New York with the guy who played Marius in Les Mis on Broadway."  
  
  
    A slight pang of sadness hit Jean right in the pit of his stomach but he smiled nonetheless. "And she just _tells_ your brother this? Isn't he like too young or something?"  
  
  
    "Poor little traumatized Marius has had a very different upbringing than I did. He has the mentality of a twelve-year-old. Heck, he was the one who explained to _me_ why everyone giggles at the number 69!"  
  
  
    A loud snort came from the back of Jean's throat and nostrils. "Jesussss CHRIST!!"  
  
  
    "Shush it! Fourth graders are extremely mature these days. Way too mature for my comfort." Marco kicked Jean in the shin.  
  
  
    "You're just something else, _Marco Antonio,_ huh? How are you even real?" Jean turned his head and smirked as his honey gold eyes met Marco's chocolate ones.  
  
  
    _I ask myself that every day,_ Marco thought to himself as his fingers accidentally brushed against Jean's.  
  
  
    Marco's lips parted slightly and his face flushed only a bit. His eyes softened, " _Voglio baciarti."  
_  
  
    Jean didn't know why, but he found himself speechless as a shiver crawled up his spine.  
  
  
    Marco inched closer and sunk into the expanse of mattress between them. He brought out a hand to run through Jean's hair.  
  
  
    "What does that mean?" The two-toned teen found his voice again. He was confused as to why it had left in the first place.  
  
  
    The older teen licked his lips and paused, just as his face was inches away from his friend's. He sighed and flicked his forehead.  
  
  
    "It means your hairstyle's ridiculous," Marco said as he leaned back into a safe distance away from the object of his affections.  
  
  
    "Is not!"  
  
  
    Marco looked at Jean with a dubious look on his face. "Jean, you look like a fifties greaser."  
  
  
    "I do not! I gelled it back for the occasion. I wanted your mom to think I was responsible and mature."  
  
  
    "Too bad she thinks you're the biggest dork ever."  
  
  
    Jean shoved his friend's shoulder playfully and pouted. "Okay well, I tried hard for tonight. At least I didn't _totally_ fuck up."  
  
  
    "Except for that time you nearly dumped marinara sauce on my brother."  
  
  
    "Yeah well, he had it comin'."  
  
  
    Marco shrugged, "He _does_ have that effect on people."  
  
  
    "At least he knows now not to mess with your best friend," Jean said nonchalantly.  
  
  
    "Exactly." Marco replied without really thinking about it. After a few silent moments, he did a double take. "W-Wait...do you mean...?"  
  
  
    Jean brought up a hand to poke Marco's nose and grinned, "Looks like you're stuck with a shitty best friend like me, Freckles. I accept your BFF proposal."  
  
  
    Marco was pretty sure his face would forever be in a perpetual state of blushing. "You're so embarrassing...but I'm thankful...that you're okay with being my best friend..."  
  
  
    "Marco?"  
  
  
    "Yeah?"  
  
  
    "Shut up," Jean said as he bro hugged—yes, a bro hug!—his best friend, so Marco's face was buried in his chest.  
  
  
    "O-Okay..."  
  
  
    Too bad their little moment was quickly broken up by the bedroom door slamming open. Both teens scrambled away from each other, their hearts beating rapidly against their ribcages.  
  
  
    "Mamma said to help wash the dishes." Marius' loud annoying voice echoed throughout the room.  
  
  
    "Si! I mean, yeah, okay, okay, I'll be down in a sec!" Marco stuttered and tried to calm his heart down.  
  
  
    Marius looked at his older brother with a questioning look on his face but said nothing. Once the door closed behind him, both teens settled onto their backs again and stared up at the ceiling.  
  
  
    Jean felt the level of awkward rise significantly, so he concentrated on counting the bumps on Marco's popcorn ceiling.  
  
  
    "S-Sorry...I should go, uh, help I guess," Marco suddenly announced.  
  
  
    "Yeah, sure, of course," Jean replied, not taking his eyes off the ceiling.  
  
  
    "Okay."  
  
  
    "Okay..."  
  
  
    Marco pushed himself off his bed and practically scrambled out the door. He ran down the stairs and nearly crashed into the hallway closet.  
  
  
    _Oh my god...this is NOT looking good. I almost...he hugged me even though I was about to...  
_  
  
    The freckled teen leaned against the wall, right outside the kitchen. "I'm slipping. Boy, am I slipping up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> "Ciao"--Hi/Bye
> 
> "Il piacere è tuttoe mio"--The pleasure it all mine.
> 
> "i piatti"--the plates/dishes
> 
> "Mio fratello è un cretino innamorato con un cavallo"--My brother is an idiot in love with a horse (oh yeah, i made my first horse joke. sue me)
> 
> "grazie"--Thank You
> 
> "Voglio baciarti"--I want to kiss you


	9. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was hard for Jean to be optimistic when a lot of things just blew up in his face. More often than not, shit hit the fan.
> 
> But for once, he was feeling hopeful. He had a goal, he had motivation. He'd be able to do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd personally like to apologize for not updating in two months. The writer's block was so real, tbh. Well that and my other jeanmarco fic was suddenly hit with so much attention that I basically used up all my creativity writing that one.
> 
> Either way, I'm so so sorry for how late I'm updating this. Thank you all for sticking with me so far, you're the best!!

   Practice had been tough for the past few weeks, especially after Thanksgiving. Most of the players had become lethargic from the excessive eating and the laidback feel of the vacation, but Coach Smith soon whipped them all into shape again.

 

   Soon, it was the day of the championship. They had beat Shiganshina 4-0, no surprise there. Karanes was also barely considered a threat with how Trost beat them 6-1 and Jinae was a bit tougher but they still lost by 3 points. However, during the semifinal, Stohess Prep had proved to be one of the toughest teams Trost Academy had ever confronted, and they barely even won, had it not been for the chance shot Eren made during overtime, but luckily it was enough to bring Trost to the championships.

 

   And now here they were, up against Sina Military Academy, the top tier school one district over from Stohess Prep. Trost Academy had made it to the championships...and Jean could barely believe it. Sure, he hadn't been put in most of the games, or even if he had, it'd only be for a little while, but he was feeling proud and energized. He had a huge motivating factor; one he had just decided recently. If they won the championships, he'd ask Mikasa to the winter formal. That was his goal. It was only a week away and word on the street was that Mikasa didn’t have a date yet, so Jean vowed that if he helped the team lead the victory, he’d finally muster up the courage to ask her to the dance. Sure it wasn’t asking her out but hey, it was a step.

 

   Jean started jumping up and down and side to side, getting pumped up for the game. “Holy shit, I’m so ready for this.”

 

   Marco smirked at his best friend as he pulled his uniform shirt over his head, “You seem…excited.”

 

   “You have no fucking idea. We’re gonna win this, I can feel it,” Jean cracked his neck and shook out his muscles as if he were about to step into a boxing ring.

 

   “I don’t know why you’re getting so hyped, Kirschtein. The only muscles you’ll be working out are your asscheeks sitting on that fucking bench,” Eren’s voice vibrated throughout the locker room. Some of the other boys laughed, causing Jean’s ears to heat up and his face contort in anger.

 

   “Shut it, Jaeger!!”

 

   Eren snorted but turned his focus to tying up his cleats, leaving Jean feeling agitated and offended.

 

   “Fucking kid can’t keep his mouth shut for five seconds without harassing the fuck outta me,” Jean ran a hand through his hair.

 

   Marco tightened his shoelaces as he shrugged, “It’s probably his way of getting pumped up before the game. I guess it fuels his motivation?”

 

   “Yeah yeah, defend the asshole why don’t you,” the two-toned teen slammed his locker shut.

 

   “I’m not!”

 

   Jean wrapped an arm around Marco’s neck and held him in a headlock, ruffling his dark hair as he laughed. “I’m just fucking with you. I know you’ve got my back. I’m your best friend, aren’t I?”

 

   Marco’s face turned an unhealthy shade of pink, “Y-Yeah.”

 

   Jean let go of his best friend’s head as the coach called them up and onto the field. As Jean exited the locker room, his ears were overloaded by the cheering emanating from the stands.

 

   “Whoa…”

 

   “Pretty cool, huh?” Marco said from behind him.

 

   The younger teen could only nod as he tried to glance up at the crowded stands while simultaneously trying to walk in a straight line. The entirety of the soccer team lined up in the middle of the field just as Sina’s team lined up parallel to Trost’s. Jean suddenly felt bile rise up in his throat at the sight of the monsters that made up Sina’s soccer team.

 

   “They look like fucking tanks,” Jean mumbled.

 

   “They’re not a military academy for nothing,” Marco whispered back.

 

   Before Jean knew it, the whistle blew and he gave Marco a high five before jogging off to the bench, where he’d probably spend most of his time.

 

   “It’s the championships and they probably won’t even let us taste actual gameplay,” one of the other benchwarmers muttered under his breath.

 

   Jean rolled his eyes even though he felt the same exact way, “Yeah well, if you keep bitching about it, Coach won’t ever put you in.”

 

   The game started without a hitch. Trost won the toss and got the ball first, which was an amazing advantage. Reiner and Eren were pretty much in perfect harmony on the offense. Unfortunately, Sina’s defense was rock solid.

 

   _Fuck,_ Jean thought as he watched the ball get kicked out from between Eren’s feet. _How could that idiot fuck up!?_

Jean began shaking his legs, watching in anticipation as the ball moved back and forth across the field. Even though the game had practically just started, by this time, Trost was usually able to at least get _near_ the goal. However, Sina’s defense was just as strong as they looked.

 

   Eren and Reiner were at the forefront of the battle, pursuing the ball wherever it went. But when they didn’t have the ball, it usually meant Samuel was in charge of the offense. Despite all the training, all the time spent on the field, Samuel couldn’t hide his weakness, something a very perceptive member of Sina’s team noticed. Just as Samuel neared the goal, thinking he’d be able to make a shot, numbers ten and seven cut him off just short of the net, making Samuel panic and search out for Eren or Reiner, both of whom were blocked by other players.

 

   “Shit!” Jean called out as he began biting his lip. “It was a trap!”

 

   A particularly odd-looking player with a weird bowl cut was able to squeeze through Trost’s defense and kicked the ball to his teammates standing near the opposite goal. Marco was suddenly very tense, he knew he had to stop this shot no matter what. If Sina scored the first shot, the flow of the game would lean to their favor, completely screwing up any upper hand Trost had.  

 

   Marco’s eyes narrowed as he stretched out his arms to the sides, eyes locked on to the ball that was quickly closing its distance. Millius, Franz and Tom were the last line of defense before the ball could get to the goal and Marco had faith in their abilities. They were able to stop goals before. This time couldn’t be any different.

 

   Except it was. Marco hadn’t taken into account the midfielders. Or rather, he completely forgot mistakes could still happen on the field.

 

   Thomas and Boris battled members of Sina’s offense for the ball. They got a hold on the ball and used Thomas’ strength and Boris’ stealth to lead their rivals away from the net. But in all that calculation, the speed at which they were both going, it was honestly not a surprise that an accident could happen. When a Sina player suddenly appeared in front of Boris, he backtracked, sending Thomas closer to the net to help the defense. Except, Franz hadn’t exactly moved from his spot, his nerves getting the best of him. And it all just happened so fast, not even Marco, who was just a few feet away, realized just what had happened until it was too late.

 

   The weird thing about humans is that their bodies are a lot more fragile than anyone thinks. Falling at the wrong angle could seriously injury a person; a sprain of an ankle, a bruised elbow, etc. But in this case, the loud, painful screams coming from Thomas’ vocal cords were proof enough that the situation was worse than it seemed.

 

   And it only took a split second to look in his teammate’s direction, but it was more time than Marco could have afforded to give. Because in that moment, just as he took his eyes off the ball to look at Thomas, Marco felt a gust of wind pass right by his shoulder and a series of cheers coming from the stands.

 

   Sina had just made a goal.

 

   The expression on Marco’s face mirrored Jean’s own reaction. A look filled with confusion and apprehension.

 

   The referee blew his whistle and a timeout was called as multiple people ran to Thomas’ side, trying to gauge the severity of the situation. As a member of the medical team tried touching Thomas’ leg and asking him exactly what he felt, the screams were enough to tell exactly what was wrong and where.

 

   “He broke his leg,” Armin said from beside Jean.

 

   The ash blond teen stared at his classmate in horror.

 

   Armin had joined the soccer team as an unofficial manager of sorts. He was practically Coach Smith’s son _in_ the classroom that he invited him to be his adoptee on the field as well, or at least on the sidelines. Armin mostly assisted with grading papers for the coach during practice and offering strategies when it game to gameplay. Although even that didn’t happen often because the smaller blond was intent on studying in the library and even had an afterschool debate team he was busy with. But it was moments like these, critical points during games that he helped out the most.

 

   Armin watched the events unfold and quickly tried to assess the situation.

 

   “The coach is going to put you in, Jean.”

 

   Jean felt his heartbeat thud viciously against his ribcage. “W-What?”

 

   “There’s no other choice, he has to put you in. You’re the only one who can play Thomas’ position.” Armin said, mind still racing with other possibilities.

 

   “But it’s the championships—”

 

   “Exactly! The team needs you now more than ever,” the blond teen’s eyes met Jean’s amber ones with an almost desperate look.

 

   Jean had initially thought Armin didn’t care about soccer. He had honestly just joined, hadn’t even learned all the player’s names yet, probably didn’t even know how to handle a soccer ball himself. But Jean knew this kid was smart. And he was damn sure Armin was probably Erwin’s love child by how cunning he could be. Jean knew Armin was trying to boost Jean’s confidence right before he went onto the field, but hey, it was working.

 

   So when Erwin’s voice yelled out, “Kirschtein, on the field!” it came to no surprise and Jean wasn’t even feeling discouraged.

 

   He’d get this done. He had to. There was no other option but to win.

 

   Maybe a little hope was all he needed.

 

* * *

 

   They had lost.

 

   Sure it was just by a point, but they had lost nonetheless.

 

   Jean was so sure they were going to win. Eren had vowed that he would die before he let the team lose. Coach Smith and Armin had both said they were a powerful team, they had placed their faith in them. And yet…the Trost boys failed. _Jean_ failed.

 

  Jean hadn’t counted on his own inexperience. He hadn’t thought of the two hundred-pound teenagers charging at him from across the field. He hadn’t realized just how clumsy he could be with dribbling the ball between his feet.   
  
    For some reason, it all looked easier from the bench. Sure he’d played somewhat in previous games, but it was nothing compared to the championships. It was like adding a level five Magikarp onto a team against a group filled with legendary pokemon. It just wasn’t going to work.

 

   After Thomas’ injury and the sudden goal, the flow seemed to forever be in Sina’s favor. And when there was one chink in the chain, the rest came crumbling down.

 

   Jean laid on the field, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands to stop them from leaking out even one tear. Although Eren was kneeling not too far from him and sobbing quite loudly, Jean refused to show that level of weakness. Even though the rest of the team was doing the same thing.

 

   Marco lied next to Jean, an arm thrown over his face, not saying a word.

 

   Surprisingly, only the underclassmen were shedding tears over their loss. Third-years like Reiner, Nack, and Boris took the loss in stride. They walked off the field, sat themselves down on the bench and just hung their heads. At least then Jean couldn’t tell if they were crying or not, but they seemed pretty controlled compared to the rest of the team.

 

   “I fucked up,” Jean choked out. “I fucked up so bad.”

 

   Marco lifted his arm and flipped onto his side, “No more than I did.”

 

   The younger teen wiped his nose on his arm and glanced over at his best friend, “Y-You didn’t, though!”

 

   “Exactly, and neither did you. We…we did our best, that’s what matters.”

 

   Jean felt his ears ring, the sound of the stands emptying drowned out the words of comfort Marco was trying to give him. He clenched his fist and hit it against the grass.

 

   “I was going to ask Mikasa to the winter formal.”

 

   Marco’s face twitched momentarily but revealed nothing, “Not anymore?”

 

   Jean shook his head, “I was only gonna ask her if we won the game. No point in doing it now.”

 

   The two boys sat in silence as the sobs from their teammates died down and only Eren’s loud sniffles could be heard.

 

   “You can still do it.”

 

   Jean’s reddened eyes settled onto Marco’s face. “Do what?”

 

   “Ask Mikasa to the dance.”

 

   “Why would I do that?”

 

   Marco’s eyebrows knit together and Jean worried his freckled friend might be angry with him for some odd reason.

 

   “Because if you’re really serious about her then it shouldn’t matter if you lost a dumb game or not. If you…if you like her, then just go for it. Just do it! Then it’ll be easier…”

 

   _Easier?_ Jean thought. What would be?

 

    Marco then turned onto his back once again and closed his eyes, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

 

   The amber-eyed teen next to him just a muttered an “it’s okay”, attributing his friend’s outburst to their recent loss.

 

   They were all extremely sensitive, emotions still raw from the game.

 

   There would be no congratulatory speech from the coach, no victory shouts, no team hugs, no after party, nothing. There were just dried tears and pink faces.

 

   And as loath as Jean would care to admit, it hurt.

 

   Losing a lacrosse game back in middle school hadn’t ever really fazed him. While his teammates cried, he usually just shrugged and left the field no problem, blaming the others for their loss. But this was different. This was _personal_.

 

   Jean felt like he had failed his team. He felt responsible. For being inexperienced, for being too slow, for being the last person who should have ever stepped foot on that field. And it fucking _ate_ at him.

 

   He turned to his side as he felt another round of tears hit the back of his eyes. Just as he flipped over, an arm curled around his shoulders and a broad chest pressed up against his back.

 

   “You played well, Jean.” Marco’s baritone voice entered Jean’s ears as he spoke softly and calmly. “I’m sorry I didn’t say so before. But…you did your best.”

 

   It wasn’t until he felt the warmth of Marco’s skin that Jean realized he was shaking from the cold. It _was_ almost December after all. And his shirt was still damp from the sweat, making it a poor combination with the cold weather.

 

   “Thomas would’ve done a better job at keeping the ball away from the goal.”

 

   “You’re not Thomas,” Jean flinched at Marco’s words. “Don’t compare yourself to others. It was your first big game and you kept up. You did amazingly, Jean.”

 

   Jean turned over and faced Marco, noticing a completely different expression on his face from earlier.

 

   It was then that Jean noticed he and Marco were the only ones left on the field. Jean sat straight up, his eyes wide and his cheeks red.

 

   “How long have we been laying here!?”

 

   Marco shrugged as he sat up as well. “Not sure. The guys left a while ago. Only Armin and Eren are still here.” He pointed towards the bleachers and Jean watched as Eren wiped the remainder of his tears with some tissues Armin had no doubt given him.

 

   “Fuck, I’m freezing,” Jean’s teeth chattered as he stood up and felt the wind hit his back.

 

   “The temperature dropped a bit. Should we head in?” Marco smiled softly.

 

   The two-toned teen nodded and followed Marco as they exited the field and walked towards the locker room.

 

   Eren and Armin followed after them. There was a fragile balance that couldn’t be broken, and despite Jean and Eren’s continuous rivalry, no one uttered a word.

 

   Just as Jean got to his locker, Armin stopped right beside him and looked up at him with apologetic eyes.

 

   “I’m sorry.”

 

   That was all he said and yet, Jean understood what he meant. Sorry he hadn’t thought up a better strategy. Sorry he couldn’t help. Sorry for giving him hope.

 

   Jean flicked Armin’s nose, causing the smaller teen to wince and clutch at his nose.

 

   “Don’t worry about it.”

 

   “But—”

 

   “Armin,” Jean said, the seriousness evident in his tone, “It’s _fine._ ”

 

   And just as the words left Jean’s mouth he realized that yeah…it was just as Marco said. It was fine.

 

    It’d all be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a bit fast paced, but the content was there. It's mostly setting up the stage for the next chapter, when all the drama goes down :3333 Also it'll be the turning point in Jean and Marco's relationships. 
> 
> FINALLY.


End file.
